


Risqué Business

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: WinterIron Bingo [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bathroom Sex, Condoms, Dental Dams, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Some Plot, safe sex is safe, wrap it up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 23:04:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18670171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Five times Bucky and Tony engaged in public intercourse... and the one time they got caughtFor WinterIron Bingo I2 - 5+1 Format





	1. Up Here in the Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will post entirely today

There was something that Tony loved about a club, all flashing lights and garish neon and music that was little more than a rhythm vibrating itself right into your bones. Maybe it was the anonymity of it, the way no one looked at Tony’s face long enough to figure out who he was -- and even if they did, they probably didn’t care as long as he kept moving with the beat and didn’t spill his drink on them. And even if they _did_ care, he wouldn’t be able to hear their inane attempts at being clever. Anonymity was nice.

Maybe it was the way everyone, under club lights, was beautiful. Round breasts and long necks and waving arms; broad shoulders and powerful thighs. Cascades of hair, colorless in the strobing lights, begging to be touched. Tight clothes, low necklines, cropped waists. They were all gorgeous.

Like the guy Tony had found himself dancing with, the last time the beat shifted. Just a club grind, but there was some admirable sway to those hips, a sinuous shift to the spine, and every time Tony looked around, the guy’s eyes were fixed on him, pale and intense. Tony licked his lips, flirting wordlessly, a little flick of the tongue, and swayed even closer. Anonymity and beautiful people. Recipe for the perfect night of relaxation.

When the guy noticed Tony watching him, his gaze became even more interested, and he bit his lower lip, teeth sinking in just a little to dent the soft skin there before nodding, almost to himself. He leaned in, so close that Tony could feel his body heat, even over the general too-warm nature of the club, smell the hint of his cologne. “If I wanted to buy you a drink, would you let me?” He spoke almost directly into Tony’s ear and while Tony wouldn’t have been able to pick the voice up off a recording -- there was too much background crazy for that -- it was astonishing how well Tony could understand him.

Yeah, the guy had no idea who Tony was, or he’d be angling for Tony to buy the drinks. Tony grinned and grabbed the guy’s wrist and towed him in the direction of the bar. A drink or two, a little more dancing, and then maybe some _dancing_ , if it was an especially good night and the guy wasn’t a complete douche.

They made their way toward the back of the room; the guy plucked his super thin tee away from his body, trying to fan air up. It was late spring, which meant the outside was too cold, and inside was too hot. Or the guy would just be showing off his chest, which was well worth looking at, Tony decided, seeing the kind of abs you could grate cheese on. “Vodka,” he told the bartender. “Grey Goose, or whatever’s your top shelf. And-- what’s your poison, gorgeous?”

Tony wasn’t dumb enough to try to order good scotch at a club bar. “Jack and Coke,” he ordered. “No ice, and don’t skimp on the booze.”

After some conversation with the bartender, the guy had three shot glasses of vodka lined up, which he slammed down one at a time, with a distinct pause between each, then handed the bartender a credit card and a twenty for the tip.

“You look too good for this place, kitten,” the guy said. “Ain’t seen you here before.”

“I like to rotate,” Tony said. “I get around. You look pretty good, yourself. Wind blow you in off the street?”

The guy snorted, which Tony saw more than heard. “Closest place to my apartment that’s not a total dive. My roommate’s girl is back in town, and they’re noisy as hell when they fuck.”

“So you’ve got some time to kill,” Tony said, smirking. He downed the last of his drink and left the glass on the bar. “You got a name, hot stuff?”

“Unless someone stole it since I last checked,” the guy said. He made a show of patting down his pockets, then, “Nope, still here. It’s Bucky. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Tony laughed, not so much at the name itself as out of surprise that Bucky hadn’t tried to make it a blatant come-on. “I’ve heard worse,” Tony said, though he hoped Bucky wouldn’t challenge him to name one. He looked toward the dance floor, about to suggest they go back, but then a couple brushed by, emerging from a dark corner that was shielded from the lights by a support pillar. One of them was still doing up his pants.

Tony’s dick wondered why _he_ wasn’t in the dark corner making out with a hot guy, and he really didn’t have any good reason to tell it no. He glanced toward the corner, then looked back at Bucky, one eyebrow raised.

Bucky made a show of looking Tony up and down, deliberate and judgy, but then decided apparently he liked what he saw. Or he noticed someone else eyeing up the corner and figured they’d better claim it before someone else staked out their spot.

Quick and easy and smooth, Tony found himself pushed against the (slightly sticky) wall, Bucky’s hand planted near Tony’s throat, pinning him in. “Lookin’ to help me kill some time, are ya, kitten?” Bucky waited just long enough for Tony’s mouth to form a suggestive smirk, taking that as the enthusiastic consent that it was, and darted in to take possession of Tony’s lips in a smooth kiss, as sensual and sinuous as the way he’d danced, and as eager as the way he’d taken his vodka.

Bucky tasted sharp like the vodka and sweet, too, and Tony wasted no time at all in letting him in. Tony’s hands, in the meantime, found the front of Bucky’s shirt and found that the abs were every bit as firm and amazing as they’d looked.

He nudged his fingers under the waistband of Bucky’s pants, teasing at the edge of the shirt and the skin just underneath. He couldn’t quite hear it when Bucky moaned, but he could feel the vibration of it against his mouth, and hummed in response.

Bucky tugged at Tony’s shirt, flicking one of the buttons open near his navel and then pulling out the end to tent it over the front of his trousers. His hand slid in, teasing back until he had hold of Tony’s hip. “You are so fuckin’ hot,” Bucky murmured, then he licked Tony’s ear, nipping at the shell, then sucking the lobe, before exploring the territory of Tony’s throat. The whole time, his hips were rolling with the music, pushing against Tony’s thigh.

Tony let his head fall back so Bucky could suck on his throat and slipped his hands a little deeper into Bucky’s pants, taking a handful of ass and pulling Bucky more tightly against him. “Right back atcha,” Tony muttered, and he didn’t much care if Bucky even heard it or not, because Bucky’s cock was pushing against Tony’s hip now and _Christ_ , that felt good. Big and hard and hot, even through their clothes.

Tony pulled a hand free and groped for Bucky’s hair, grabbing a handful and pulling Bucky off his neck a little, up to look at Tony. “I want to suck you off,” Tony said.

Bucky’s eyes, already no-colored in the dark, went wide and even darker. “Christ, I wanna let you,” he said, then, “left-front pocket.” Bucky reached in and pulled out a few foil wrappers, condom and lube and -- a dental dam, there was someone who was _prepared_ \-- like damn sex confetti in his pocket. “Here.” He flicked one of the packets to Tony, strawberry flavored.

Not Tony’s favorite artificial flavor, but it beat the hell out of Nonoxynol-9, so he just grinned and slithered to his knees, tucking the packet between his teeth so he had both hands free to open Bucky’s jeans. They were practically painted on, but Tony only needed to get them open far enough to get that gorgeous cock out, just as thick as it had felt and already flushed.

Bucky kept Tony pinned in the corner, his back to the room. As long as no one else saw “inappropriate skin” they’d probably just be asked to zip up and leave. On the other hand, as Tony well knew, _lewd conduct_ was usually only about a two to three thousand dollar fine. Bucky’s hand came down in Tony’s hair, fingers raking through the carefully arranged dishevelled look and turning into actual dishevelment. He was looking down, legs spread just a little.

Tony tore the condom wrapper open and looked up at Bucky as he rolled it on, taking a little more care with it than absolutely necessary, smoothing the latex over every little bump and ridge, making sure there was just a little play at the tip. He took a good handful at the base and made sure Bucky was looking right at him as he sucked it in.

Sometimes Tony thought the best thing about sucking cock was the faces that men made -- the way every bit of pretense and attitude fell right off. Seeing the real person, even if only for a second. It was, and Tony knew it damn well, hard to keep one’s mask on when someone was sucking your brain out through your dick.

Bucky was fucking gorgeous, a shadow of need and relish passing over that face. His mouth dropped open, tongue flicking out to lick at his bottom lip, and his eyes fluttered closed. “Jesus,” he swore. His hand in Tony’s hair tightened, not quite pulling, and not directing, but holding on, like Tony was going to knock him right off his feet.

And, well, Tony didn’t like to brag, but he was pretty damned good at this, and he was going to do his damnedest to do just that. He wanted to feel Bucky lose control, just for a few seconds, wanted that hand in his hair to clench a little too tight, wanted to feel the muscles in Bucky’s thighs quiver, wanted Bucky’s cock to jump and pulse in his mouth, a little slice of time where there was nothing and no one else in the universe that mattered.

Tony put his all into it, sucking hard and tracing designs with his tongue and pushing it as deep into his throat as he could. He looked up at Bucky as often as he could, and every time, Bucky was still watching, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open, lip red from being bitten.

Bucky’s hand left Tony’s hair to brace himself against the wall, gasping for breath, his whole body going rigid, trembling with need. His other hand slid down Tony’s face and he brushed his thumb over Tony’s stretched lip, tracing the line and leaving tingles behind, tender and sweet, which was nothing that Tony expected from a club tryst. “Look at you,” he mouthed, and then clenched his jaw. “Gonna--”

That was what the condom was _for_. Tony would have smirked if his mouth wasn’t so full; as it was, he just pushed forward, letting Bucky’s cock slide down into the back of his throat as deep as Tony could take it.

Bucky’s hips rolled, smooth and supple, and he made a noise, some soft, almost helpless sound that Tony should not have been able to hear over the club’s music and did anyway. The rubber flexed in Tony’s mouth a bit, and Bucky shuddered like a sapling in high wind. His hand tangled in Tony’s hair again, then stroked down the back of his head, petting him like a cat.

“Christ almighty,” Bucky said, then rolled his tongue in his mouth a little, before lightly pulling Tony to his feet. He was panting for breath, and tucked his face against Tony’s throat. “Men’s room-- we stay here much longer, someone’s gonna see. There’s a stall in the men’s room.”

Of course there was. Whether it would already be occupied was a question, but they’d figure it out if they had to. It wasn’t like Tony had much in the way of shame, and maybe just a _tiny_ bit of an exhibitionist kink anyway. He looked around until he spotted the men’s room door, and plotted their path to it as carefully as he’d ever laid a circuit board. He adjusted his pants a little, so he could actually walk, then took Bucky’s hand and led the way through the throng.

One guy was at the urinal when they came in, and the stall was occupied. The bathroom smelled like beer and an undercurrent of less pleasant things, but mostly artificial orange room freshener. Bucky flicked the condom into the trash can, and went to the sink to wash his hands, when the toilet flushed. A moment later, and they had the room to themselves. Bucky didn’t waste any time, pushing Tony in and locking the latch behind them.

“Gimme,” Bucky said, his hands busy on Tony’s zipper, while Tony braced his back against the stall’s door.

Bucky’s enthusiasm was nice; too many guys lost interest after they’d blown their own wad, and even if they returned the favor out of some innate sense of fair play, it was perfunctory, not this eager excitement. Tony shimmied his hips a little to help Bucky work his jeans down over them, and then ran his fingers into Bucky’s hair -- it was just as soft as it looked, which was surprising. “All yours,” he promised. “Have at.”

“An’ here I started th’ night thinking that Steve was the luckiest guy in the city,” Bucky said. “You are so fuckin’ gorgeous. I ain’t got another flavored one, you reckon a hand job will be okay for you?” He traced his fingers up Tony’s shaft, then palmed the head.

Tony swayed into the touch with a groan. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll go off without anything else,” he said. “Hand, yes, great, good, just-- _touch me_ , god...”

“I gotcha, kitten,” and Bucky tore open a packet of lube, spitting out the foil and pouring it into his hand. His slick, smooth fist enclosed Tony’s dick, tugging light and steady. Bucky crowded deep into Tony’s personal space, kissing him fiercely. His tongue plundered Tony’s mouth, eagerly exploring, his other hand stroking Tony’s hair, along the back of his neck, wandering restlessly, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Tony opened his mouth to moan, and found the sound swallowed up, as Bucky silenced him with another deep kiss, just as the door banged open. The way Bucky’s body moved against Tony’s the press of his thigh, the way his eyes went wide and dark with renewed desire, Tony thought maybe Bucky had a bit of an exhibitionist kink himself.

They listened to the patron go about his business, singing the wrong words to the music, and Bucky’s hand kept moving on Tony’s cock, brisk and slick and just enough pressure to feel really, really good.

Tony bit down on his lip hard, rolling his hips into Bucky’s touch. God it felt good, it felt so _fucking_ good, and he was teetering on the edge already and that guy needed to _hurry the fuck up_ and then _get the hell out_. Finally, _finally_ , he finished up, and just as the door opened, a loud groan burst through Tony’s throat as his rhythm stuttered.

“Yeah, that’s good, sweetheart,” Bucky crooned, watching Tony’s face intently as he cupped his hand loose over Tony’s cock, catching, well, most of the spill and they were in a club, no one was going to notice a drip or two. He was grinning wide, those light eyes -- they weren’t really blue, Tony noticed, up close and in the unflattering light of the men’s room, but sort of silvery grey -- practically snapping with the excitement. “You liked it… knowin’ someone might hear us, might _know_ , didn’t you?”

Tony laughed, a little hoarse. “So did you.”

He didn’t deny it, and a faint flush crept up his throat. Bucky wiped his hand off with a handful of toilet paper, then gently tucked Tony back into his pants. “Suck in,” he told Tony and then zipped him up. He pushed up onto his toes to look over the top of the stall. “All clear,” he reported, unlatching the door.

Tony went to the sink and washed his hands, then fixed his hair, mostly, as best he could with just water and his fingers. He’d need to remember to keep a comb in his pocket if he was going to start making a habit of this.

Speaking of habits... He waited until Bucky had finished washing up, then held out his hand. “Phone?”

“I was going to ask if you kept booty call numbers, or if it was one and done,” Bucky said, digging in his back pocket and swiping his phone’s lock screen. A Stark phone, nice, even if it was one of the older models. He figured Bucky had good taste; suspicion confirmed.

“I don’t, usually,” Tony said, which was one hundred percent true, though it was anyone’s guess whether Bucky would believe it. “I really, really, don’t. But it’s not too often that I meet someone who’s worth going a second round.” He lifted the phone and took a selfie of himself from above -- close to the same angle Bucky would’ve had during the blowjob -- and put himself into Bucky’s contacts as just _Tony_. “Text me the next time your roommate hangs a sock on the doorknob, and if I’m free, we’ll see if we can find somewhere else to desecrate.”

“Sounds delicious,” Bucky said, then he leaned in close and purred in Tony’s ear. “I don’t think my life will be complete until I get your dick in my mouth.”

Jesus, Tony had _just_ come, but his cock tried its valiant best to respond to that low rumble. He shivered a little. “Yeah... Yeah, that’s... Text me.” He grinned, and then made himself walk out of the bathroom before he could completely embarrass himself.


	2. Texts I Never Thought I'd Be Sending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a tumblr post

If there was some time period between playing it cool (i.e., not to get clingy all over the dude, like some unwanted piece of staticky Saran Wrap) and waiting too long and letting a good thing pass you by, it was somewhere in the three days to one week range.

Bucky knew that, because he’d consulted no less than four different friends on the subject. And, while he would never admit it in a million years, might have actually tapped around on _Cosmo’s_ website for a while. If it worked for girls, maybe it would work for gay dudes, right?

Which meant he needed to wait at least three days. Which was harder than he might have figured. Bucky wasn’t against one-nighters, but Tony had been hot-as-hell and Bucky didn’t just think that was the vodka talking.

And blatant, and brazen, and so beautiful down there on his knees, those bambi eyes looking up at Bucky like he’d hung the fucking moon.

Not to mention the aching brilliant adrenaline rush from doing it in public like that. Sure, Bucky’d had a few club fucks that were in dingy alleyways, but not really where anyone was likely to catch them. It had gotten his heart going and his blood racing, and Bucky’d had an orgasm that he could have sworn popped his fucking eardrums.

It was a heady sensation and Bucky could get used to it.

He’d _like_ to get used to it.

Which meant Monday after work was too soon, right?

He’d already done the fridge stare a few times since getting home and there was fuck-all to eat. Nat had stayed the whole damn weekend and she and Steve had eaten all the takeout leftovers.

There were a handful of condiments in the door, a bottle of cheap ass champagne that Bucky was positive had been there since Christmas, and something in a tupperware container that was currently muttering to itself about a land war in Asia.

He pulled out his phone, thinking about calling his favorite delivery place, and scrolled through his contacts list.

_Tony._

He shouldn’t text.

He was supposed to be cool, right?

_I am hungry, bored, and horny. Want to grab some McNuggets or something and have a little fun?_

His finger hovered over the send button for… a while. And then he pushed send.

Scrambled with it to see if--

_Read at 6:17pm_

Jesus, he was so, so uncool. Bucky practically threw his phone in the fridge out of sheer mortification.

…

New text from Tony: _I am not sucking your dick at the McDonalds._

Bucky snorted. Well, what else could he possibly expect? Even for shady Brooklyn bars, he hadn’t been hitting the high end things, but McD’s was still scraping the bottom of the barrel. Bucky considered his wallet, how hungry he was, and what was within walking distance. If he had to get on the train again, he was likely to bite someone, and not in a fun way.

_KFC?_ He hit send. There were a couple of other places that were cheap, that also had public bathrooms. But he was really in the mood for chicken. Maybe the--

New text from Tony: ... _I could be convinced._

A second later, the phone buzzed again. _Convince me._

_Theres a Crowns chicken/pizza on franklin that has a single customer bathroom_

He remembered that, because the last time he’d been there, he’d had to wait in the hallway before a woman with four kids came out, each one of them arguing that the other one hadn’t washed their hands. The room was pretty big, for a public restroom and had two locks. It could work.

It took a couple of minutes for the reply to come back this time. Bucky was absolutely _not_ stalking his messages and watching for that little _typing now_ ellipses, nope.

New text from Tony: _Can be there in 45?_

It would take him about ten minutes to walk it, and that gave him time to grab a quick shower and change out of his work clothes. He wasn’t dressing up for a date, he was keeping who knew what bathroom germs off his charcoal grey suit pants that had to be damn _dry cleaned_.

_See you then._

And he absolutely did not spent half of the time picking out which pair of jeans showed off his thighs the best, while still being able to walk a few blocks. Nope. That didn’t happen either.

He slicked his hair back, finished dressing and then-- fuck, Steve was going to be home in like five minutes and then he’d just assume he could tag along to dinner with Bucky. Which, just… no. And he didn’t want to explain, either.

Right. Bucky grabbed his wallet, locked the door, and headed down the stairwell. He walked down two flights to the fifth floor; there was a second elevator that let out on the south end of the building, but it only went up to the fifth, so he’d just take that, and dodge Steve. Problem solved. He gave himself a mental high five and turned out into the street, headed for the Crowns.

The place was swarming with people grabbing dinner on their way home from work, or back to the office, or to cancel out the gym they were on the way to. A careful look around did not reveal Tony, but Bucky had left a few minutes early to dodge Steve, so that was okay.

Bucky didn’t know what Tony wanted to eat, but he might as well get in line; he ordered a double of the chicken, with fries, and two cokes, stalking a table until one cleared and then grabbing it. God, he was hungry. The one drumstick he got disappeared in short order, and Bucky was trying to pretend he wasn’t going to eat all the fries before Tony showed up.

When Tony walked in ten minutes later, Bucky’s was not the only head that turned. Tony apparently hadn’t changed from his work clothes yet; he was wearing a silvery-gray suit that looked like it had been especially tailored just to show off his ass and thighs, hugging the curve of his waist. He was every bit as hot as Bucky remembered. Maybe even moreso.

For a second, Bucky felt smug -- yeah, that gorgeous guy was here for _him_ \-- and then some guy wearing a t-shirt that didn’t make any sense and was probably some obscure joke broke out of the line, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, are you-- _Tony Stark_?”

Tony’s mouth ticked up a little into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The one and only.” He offered a hand and the guy shook it and started rambling something about the latest phone release.

Bucky gaped. _Oh, god, oh, god._ So not cool, he was not cool, he was going to have a fucking freak out right there in the restaurant. Bucky took a few deep breaths, then, “Tony, if you don’t get over here, I’mma eat all your damn fries.” And he waved one of them at Tony before popping it in his mouth. Which was so, so _stupid_ , he probably looked like a complete idiot, but-- calm. Deep breath. He was fine. He was… yeah, okay, so he was going to have a Moment, but maybe he could get through dinner before he had to have it.

Tony’s smile widened when he spotted Bucky, and he lifted a hand in that sort of universal _yes I’ve seen you_ kind of signal. It took him another few seconds to extricate himself from the t-shirt guy, but then he was crossing the room and dropping into the chair opposite Bucky and reaching for the fries. “Sorry if I’m late; the subway...” He shrugged. On top of the table, he was dragging food toward himself, stuffing fries into his mouth. Under the table, his ankle had hooked Bucky’s.

“S’okay, I started without you, but I swear, you take one meeting, you make one exception, and then you’re stuck on calls every day from noon to three, it’s… in any case, I missed lunch, so you’re out of luck if you’re a leg man, because I ate that one.” _Be cool, Barnes._ Just… this was the same guy he’d been dancing with at the club, and who had actually given Bucky his number and then shown up at a -- probably slumming it like crazy for Tony Stark -- low end chicken place.

“Nah, I prefer the thighs,” Tony said, carefully selecting one from the basket, mouth curving in a smirk that said he _absolutely_ knew what he was doing. “Actually, it’s good you texted when you did; it gave me an excuse to walk out of another planning session that’s probably going to drag on until nine or ten tonight.” He made a face and then took a bite of the chicken.

“Ug, yeah, I feel ya on that,” Bucky said, because he did. He was only a junior analyst, but even his job as glorified secretary sometimes had him at the office really late, especially around the end of the quarter. And tax day. Although, technically, Tony was the boss boss boss, so if he didn’t want to stick around, he -- apparently -- didn’t have to. “Planning sessions, right? Like, the only thing likely to take longer is those stand-up status meetings.” He pretended very, very hard like half the shop wasn’t watching them.

But as Tony didn’t exhibit any tendencies to sprout horns, or start speaking in tongues, or singing show tunes, they gradually faded into the background hum of Don’t Notice Fellow New Yorkers.

Tony chatted with him while they ate as if they were actually friends, swapping stories about work and other people they knew, and that was... surprisingly nice. Tony had a great sense of timing for storytelling, and the little smile that went along with his punchlines just made Bucky want to crawl across the table and kiss it off him. When they were down to the last few fries, Tony glanced past Bucky to the bathroom and lowered his voice. “I’m going to go back there. Give it a few minutes, until the people who’ve seen me go in have got their stuff and left, or forgotten, and then come on back.” He grinned at Bucky as he wiped the grease from his mouth with a paper napkin, then licked off his fingers sensuously before getting up and strolling casually toward the bathroom.

Bucky took his phone out and tapped it a few times; the best way to keep people from noticing you was to not be remarkable. Steve’s girlfriend, who worked for the CIA, had told him that, once. Probably good advice.

He opened up his bank app, grimaced at the amount of Not Money he had until the end of the month. Sent a text to his sister to thank her for the terrible birthday card she’d sent him like a month ago that he kept forgetting to text her about. Reminded her that she wasn’t that much younger than he was. Did a casual check of the shop. No one was watching him particularly, so he got up, dumped their trash, and headed to the bathroom.

Leaned against the door a little, and rapped twice. “Tony?” he barely whispered it, hoping it would carry through the wood.

The sound of the door’s lock disengaging seemed particularly loud, actually, but no one else was close enough to have heard it.

Bucky slid in, letting Tony push the door closed and lock it behind him. Bucky watched him in the mirror, trying to seem nonchalant, cool, calm. Collected. And Tony gave that little smirk again, tinged with something like resignation. _Having second thoughts?_ that little smile seemed to say, and then Bucky was pushing him against the wall, mouth seeking Tony’s lips, wanting to kiss that look right off his face.

“S’good to see you again,” he said, practically growling in Tony’s ear, before nuzzling at Tony’s throat.

“Yeah?” Tony dropped his head back against the wall with a quiet _thunk_. “Kinda got the impression there that you hadn’t realized exactly what you’d signed up for, there. Bound to give anyone a second thought. Or a third.”

Bucky pushed back a little to look at Tony. “Ain’t nothin’ changed for me, kitten. Was bored and hungry and horny. If you’re still willin’ and interested, we can do something about that third problem.”

“I am _absolutely_ still interested. And willing. And other expressions of enthusiastic consent.” Tony’s spine undulated like a snakes, pressing their bodies together, and -- hello, yes, another expression of enthusiasm right there, grinding into Bucky’s hip. “I do believe I recall something about my dick and your mouth?”

Bucky’s mouth watered. “Oh _yes_ ,” he said. He glanced around the bathroom; standard amenities including a corner bar for wheelchair users, a counter for stuff and a plastic chair, probably for women who needed to nurse. Bucky shifted the chair around. “Here, hop up on the counter and you can watch me in the mirror.” That would keep him off the floor, which didn’t look very clean, and he wasn’t drunk enough to ignore that. Plus, the mirror idea was super hot.

Tony bent over to look under the counter -- probably checking that it was braced well enough to hold his weight, but bending over like that just made his ass even more prominent, and it was hard to think much of anything for a few seconds.

Tony straightened up and unzipped, shoved his pants and briefs down unceremoniously, and then jumped up onto the counter, spreading his thighs as much as the pants would allow. He checked the view in the mirror and grinned. “Oh, yeah, this is perfect. You have good ideas.”

He hadn’t gotten much of a look at Tony’s cock last time, this time he took a moment to appreciate what exactly, he was getting. Long, slender, delicately curved away from his belly. Beautiful. Mouthwatering. He dipped his hand into his shirt pocket. “Wrap it up, babe,” he told Tony.

Tony took the condom Bucky offered and glanced at it, chuckling when he saw the flavor. He tore the packet open and smoothed on the condom in an easy, efficient slide. “Time for dessert,” he said quietly, smirking.

Bucky ran his hands up those bare thighs, coughed once to open his throat and leaned in. He didn’t waste time with a prelude; taking Tony as deep as he could in a single slide. The artificial flavor/scent was nearly overwhelming -- banana split -- but what could you do? He pulled back, and then tightened his fingers on Tony’s thighs and yanked himself down again.

Tony let out a heavy breath that probably would have been a moan if they’d been almost anywhere else. His hands slid into Bucky’s hair, not pulling or directing, just petting through it. Somehow, he figured out right away that the skin behind Bucky’s ears was sensitive and he stroked his fingertips over it, testing pressures and scratching lightly until Bucky was half-crazy with it.

He tipped his head a little, twisting on Tony’s dick to look in the mirror and for a moment, his whole body clenched. Jesus, they looked _good_ together. Gorgeous and sexy and absolutely shameless. When Tony met his gaze in the mirror, Bucky winked and then went back to work.

Tony huffed out a silent laugh and went back to skritching across Bucky’s scalp. “Oh yeah, honey, that’s... that’s just right, _god_...”

Bucky usually liked to drag it out, to make it last, until his partner was begging and moaning, but they didn’t have time for that. Besides, a quickie also had its charms. He rubbed at Tony’s hips, encouraging him to thrust, and it didn’t take long before Tony was pushed up from the counter, practically fucking Bucky’s mouth while they both watched in the mirror.

Tony bit down on his lip and groaned deep in his throat. His fingers traced along Bucky’s jaw, up to Bucky’s lips where they were wrapped around Tony’s cock, and Tony’s breath stuttered, hitched, stuttered again. “Oh, fuck, yes, that’s, I’m nearly there, just a little, _Christ_ , so close--”

Bucky patted his thigh and pulled off, knowing how _mean_ it was and kind of relishing the little disappointed noise that Tony made. “Can you take a quick prep, or you want t’ finish off just like this?”

“A quick--” Tony’s eyes widened and he glanced toward the door, then nudged at Bucky until he had enough room to slide back off the counter. “Oh, hell yes. You brought stuff, I assume? I admit, I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.”

“Yeah, I…You know, I keep my party-pocket full up.” God, that sounded slutty, to admit that he’d been hoping to get to fuck. But hey, it was a booty call, wasn’t it? Booty text? Something like that; neither of them had any illusions about that. “Turn around, brace your arms, I can take care of you.”

“Hot _and_ smart,” Tony said cheerfully. He braced against the sink and looked up to watch Bucky in the mirror. “Start with two, if we’re making it a race.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, don’t want someone to start banging on the door-- while I’m banging you in here.” Bad joke, but Tony still chuckled, so that was okay. Bucky got one of the dental dams out, clean up was easier that way, and lubed it, using it to guard his fingers as he breached Tony a little rougher than he usually did. Having gotten almost all the way to orgasm, Tony’s body didn’t fight him very much, and he was knuckle deep, watching Tony’s spine and glancing up to check his expression in the mirror. He didn’t want to hurt the man, either.

Tony met his eyes and nodded, widening his stance a little. “Yeah, keep going, that’s-- Oh, yeah...” He rocked back into it, and if he grimaced a couple of times, he didn’t seem inclined to slow down, either, eyelids fluttering shut as he powered through the burn. “Okay, yeah, that’s good, that’s-- Come on, I’m good.”

Watching Tony wriggle around, knowing they were probably suspected, and it wouldn’t be too much longer before the manager came to knock on the door and tell them to _hurry it up in there_ added a jolt of excitement. Bucky pulled free, tossed the dam into the trash, and got himself wrapped up. “Push back on me,” Bucky told Tony, getting himself lined up, but letting Tony set the pace until he loosened up.

Tony wasn’t a lot more careful about Bucky’s dick than he’d been with Bucky’s fingers. “Oh yeah, Jesus, you’re thicker than I remember, that’s--” He hissed but kept pushing back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s it--”

“I am so, so _not_ going to apologize for that,” Bucky said, working a little more lube in as he pulled back slowly. God, Tony was tight, slick, heated. His face was pink, in the mirror, and his lip was wet and slick with saliva. Practically drooling, which shouldn’t have been hot and was anyway.

“No, no apology needed, it’s _great_ , I’m just...” Tony dropped his head and pushed back a little farther. He clenched down around Bucky a couple of times, and then all at once, loosened up a little, going pliant and warm. “ _There_ we go, that’s it,” Tony sighed. “Give it to me good, now.”

A few good thrusts and Bucky had a slick, easy rhythm going, shifting a little until Tony made a sound, a little eager sound, and Bucky had it lined up in his head, exactly how to thrust, to work that little node deep inside Tony, keep him pushing back, eager for more. Bucky couldn’t stop looking in the mirror, utterly _fascinated_ with being able to see Tony’s face at the same time that he was working Tony from the back.

Tony’s mouth was hanging open, just a little, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure. He leaned forward, putting his weight on his forearms, then shifted just enough to drop one hand to his cock. “That’s it, just like that, just-- Oh god...”

Bucky shifted his feet just a little, rocking his hips. Jesus, he was going to be sore tomorrow; like doing too many squats. But, oh, so worth it. He watched himself disappearing into Tony’s ass, moving faster, and then faster again, racing his orgasm, as if he was trying to catch up with it. “Tony, oh, my Christ--”

Tony gasped and lost all rhythm, his movements going jerky as he clenched down around Bucky, hard. “Oh god, Bucky--”

“There you are, you gorgeous thing, you,” Bucky said, and pushed into that warm, willing body again, then grunted, holding his jaw closed as he came, white hot and dizzying. He only barely got a hand on the sink in time to not knock Tony straight into the porcelain. “Christ, I think my legs are numb.”

Tony laughed softly, his head hanging limply. “I’m going to be feeling that all day tomorrow.”

Bucky patted Tony’s ass lightly. “ _Good_.” Smug, satisfied. He made a face, gripped the base of his dick to keep the condom from sliding off, then slowly started to pull himself together. He tossed the condom, reached around Tony to push the sink tap down. A bit of water and a wad of toilet paper and he cleaned Tony up pretty easy, burying the condoms and lube packet in the trash.

Tony finger-combed his hair into something that looked a little less freshly-fucked and straightened his clothes. He brushed the wrinkles out of Bucky’s shirt, too, looking Bucky over with a critical eye. “Hm, well, you do look like you’ve had sex recently, but to be honest, you sort of looked like that before we came in here. It works for you.”

“Yeah, well, the dinner rush should be done, maybe we can sneak out before anyone notices,” Bucky said with a not-quite-sheepish shrug. He probably should have been feeling a little ashamed of himself, but the glow on Tony’s face kept it from being a worry. Like, what was he supposed to do, _not_ fuck Tony? Yeah, right.

Tony nodded, and leaned to listen at the door. “Doesn’t sound like there’s anyone out there. Ready?” He put his hand on the door handle.

“As my roomie’s girlfriend would say, head up, arms back, breathe in, think _murder_. And walk.”

Tony laughed and opened the door. There was no one lurking nearby, thank God. “She sounds like a real character,” Tony said, pushing out and strolling through the restaurant as if they’d just finished eating and were still chatting as they left.

None of the customers seemed particularly interested in them, but Bucky did notice the shift manager giving him her best murder glare. “I am never going to be able to show my face in here again,” Bucky muttered as they pushed through the door and out into the street. “Which sucks, because it’s real close to my building.”

“Next time we can try somewhere on my side of town,” Tony said. “No one in Manhattan would be surprised by anything they caught me doing.”

Bucky was simultaneously warmed by that -- next time -- and warned by it. No one would be surprised. Tony had that kind of reputation. Bucky wondered if multiple repeat performances were normal for Tony, or if Bucky’d done something really right. Probably no way to ask without making it awkward.

“Great, you pick the time and place, next time,” Bucky said. “I’m down this way; there’s a subway station on the way, if you actually did take the train.”

“I actually did,” Tony said, turning with him. “I wouldn’t normally, but it was rush hour. If I’d taken a car, it would’ve been an hour and a half.” He fished out his phone, thumbing at the screen as they walked. “Four stars on Yelp,” he said. “Maybe that’ll get you back in their good graces.” He grinned at Bucky as he spotted the subway entrance. “I’ll be in touch,” he promised, winking.

Bucky waited until Tony was out of sight down the stairs before he leaped into the air, pumped his fist and whooped. It got him a few stares and rolled eyes, but hey, he just nailed _Tony Stark,_ and it had been _magnificent_.


	3. I wanna Do it By the Book

Tony turned the phone over and over in his hands. This was either the _best_ idea, or the _worst_ , and he couldn’t quite make up his mind which it was.

Not that something being a bad idea had ever stopped Tony before, but he generally liked to know when he was doing something dumb, so he could brace for the consequences. (Or, more accurately, so he could tell Pepper to brace for the consequences.)

For instance, going to a Brooklyn club so he could party incognito and picking up a random hot guy for a blowjob and a handy, that was probably a bad idea. But it had worked out nicely, and no random paps had caught Tony _in flagrante delicto_ , so everything was fine.

Going back to Brooklyn only two days later to eat mediocre fried chicken and fuck in a fast food bathroom with that same hot guy from the club? That was _definitely_ a bad idea. But Bucky had been every bit as hot in the real world as Tony had remembered him being in the club -- somewhat less provocatively dressed, of course, but still with that soft hair and the stubbled chin and those pretty pale eyes and that sinful mouth. And definitely still with those amazing thighs and that thick cock, hng.

They hadn’t gotten off _quite_ so scot-free that time, and Pepper had scolded Tony roundly for reviewing the restaurant on Yelp without consulting her and/or the PR team first, but of all the things Tony had ever done to make his PR team single-handedly drive up the stock on antacids, posting a somewhat overenthusiastic review of fried food wasn’t even going to make the Top Ten list for this _month_ , so Tony just tried to look contrite and nodded in all the right places and promised not to skip out on meetings without an actual good reason anymore (not that either of them had believed that promise) and eventually she’d worked it out of her system and they’d moved on.

But it had been a bad idea for other reasons, too. More personal reasons, like... Bucky was smart and funny and likeable entirely aside from his undeniable hotness. He shared Tony’s disdain for bureaucracy, he shared Tony’s kink for semi-public sex, he shared Tony’s taste in movies. His taste in music was at least tolerable. And Tony hadn’t missed Bucky’s brief moment of panic when he’d realized exactly who Tony was -- but he’d gotten it under control and gone on to treat Tony like an honest-to-god actual person and not some sort of celebrity icon. Which was worth a lot to Tony.

And now Tony was developing inconvenient feelings for what was supposed to be a one-and-done encounter, or at most a sort of fuckbuddy arrangement.

Historically, Tony did not do well with actual relationships. Which was why he’d gone to the club to get laid in the first place.

And of course, there was no reason to believe Bucky wanted any more out of Tony than an occasional orgasm, either, so the entire dilemma might be moot anyway.

Tony flipped his phone to the contacts list and stared at Bucky’s entry. He didn’t even know Bucky’s last name, for god’s sake.

So yeah, this was a bad idea. Fair enough. So noted. Tony tapped out a message. _Got a weekday evening you can spare for a trip to Queens?_

…

_I am Stuck in this fucking Meeting from now until the sun freezes over_

_Tomorrow’s out_

_What about Thursday?_

Tony checked his calendar. He had a dinner meeting with Pepper, but he could wrap that up by 7:30. _Thursday works. 8:00?_ He double-checked the address, and sent that, too.

_Can do. My roomie tells me that Crowns is backed up for miles. Rumor you been seen around._

_I played dumb. Easy to do, face like mine._

Tony snorted. _Only if you mean you stunned everyone in the vicinity with that smile and then made a break for it._

_Don’t hate me cause I’m beautiful._

Tony laughed outright. Yeah, he was screwed. And not only in the good way.

***

When Thursday arrived, Tony managed to speed dinner along by actually being prepared, for a change, which made Pepper look at him suspiciously. But she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, either, so she just waved bemusedly when he said he was going to skip dessert and head out to take care of some things.

He had his driver drop him off about a block away, but still managed to be early, so he was making small talk with the front desk when Bucky walked in. Tony smiled and waved, said his farewells, and walked over stuffing his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, kitten,” Bucky said. “God, I haven’t been in an actual library since I was in school. All my research is hand delivered, these days.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “You do research outside of school?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “It’s part of my job. Which, full disclosure, I oughta tell ya about, just to avoid any nasty complications.” He was looking around at the various book displays, keeping his hands loose behind his back, but sometimes reaching out to brush the novel spines with interest.

“What kind of complications?” Tony wondered. He was trying not to analyze the books that drew Bucky’s attention, he really was, but it was hard, because a heavy percentage of them were sci-fi, and _Christ_ , if Bucky was a nerd, too, then Tony was just fucked.

“Oh, this is good,” Bucky said, plucking a novel off the shelf that had a butterfly on the front cover. “Better in the original French, but good.” He brandished the book at Tony. _In the Motherland._ “And… complications. Uh, insider trading comes to mind. I read really, really fast and I’m good with numbers. I work as a junior analyst for a hedge fund corporation.”

Oh, those kind of complications. Tony took the book and skimmed the teaser while mentally replaying all the things they’d talked about. The book sounded fascinating and Tony made a note to find and download the original -- not that he had a lot of time for recreational reading, but every once in a while he could squeeze in a few minutes -- and said, “I don’t think I’ve given you anything that could be considered insider knowledge yet. But if we’re going to keep doing this--” He carefully did not define _this_. “--then I should probably have my team put together a personal NDA/non-compete thing for you.”

“Yeah, that might not be a bad idea,” Bucky said. “My boss’ll take about five minutes to freak out about me being gay, and then his little lizard brain will latch on to how best to leverage it. If we’re already covered, then at least I have an excuse. Because, like I wouldn’t do that. In case you were wondering.”

Well, saying he wouldn’t do it was no guarantee that he actually wouldn’t, but Tony appreciated the thought nonetheless. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to his legal team before he could forget. “Okay, I’ll ping you later for details they’ll need to fill in. Legal name, company, all that stuff. For now...” He took a quick photo of the book cover and sent that to himself, then set it on a cart to be reshelved. “...I wanted to show you the periodicals section.”

“There’s a rude joke in there somewhere,” Bucky said, thoughtfully, “but it’s just not coming together in my head, so assume I said something funny and we’ll go have a look.”

Tony grinned and led the way. “I do some pro bono work from time to time,” he explained. “For tax purposes. And one of our interns this year lives out here, and I kind of wound up talking to him about educational opportunities for kids whose families aren’t, you know, in the one percent. So my project this quarter is upgrading this library. Computer system, catalog, telecoms, you name it. Even the security system.” He shot a sidelong glance at Bucky as they stepped out of the elevator onto the rarely-used periodicals floor.

“I see,” Bucky said, nodding. “That’s very generous of you. And, maybe a little convenient, if someone wanted to do something sneaky in the stacks. You want to do it by the book, I understand completely.”

It was a terrible pun and it shouldn’t have made Tony’s heart thump with glee. “Reading is _fun_ damental,” he answered solemnly, and gestured expansively toward the shelves.

“Are you sure you don’t want the graphic novel section?” Bucky wondered, and his hand darted out to smack Tony’s ass. Lightly. They didn’t want to get dirty looks for being noisy, after all. It was a _library._

“No, but if it’ll make you feel better, we can see if they have a collection of _Out_.” Tony stuck his hand into the back of Bucky’s pants, just deep enough to tease at the top of Bucky’s crack. “Probably you are not shocked to learn that I’ve always wanted to have sex in a library.” He grinned and pulled Bucky down a random row, toward the dark corners and -- score! -- study carrels.

“Happy to check you out,” Bucky said, snickering. “Okay, enough puns, before I get us both in trouble. Sorry, they’re hard to resist.”

“It’s okay; I’d say you’re overdue for a few.”

Bucky snorted unattractively, shaking his head. “You’re terrible. Awful. I should punish you.” He ran his hand lightly up Tony’s chest, found his nipple through the thin fabric of his shirt and teased it erect. “So, how best to go about it? Touching?” He tweaked the stiff point. “Or not touching?”

Tony couldn’t help but arch into it, shuddering with the sudden jolt of desire. “Touching,” he said. “I definitely vote for touching.” He pulled out the study chair and turned it so they wouldn’t bump into the carrel walls. He sat down, pulling Bucky onto his lap.

“Hey there,” Bucky said, wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck, hips shifting lightly as he straddled Tony’s thighs and then ground down on him. “God, you’re pretty, did you know that?”

“I’ve heard it before,” Tony said, setting his hands on Bucky’s hips. Usually, he heard it from people who wanted something from him, which made this a nice switch. “But it’s nice to know you agree.” He tipped his head back and stretched up to catch Bucky’s mouth in a kiss.

Bucky tasted like he’d eaten a mint or three before hitting the library, and it was those little things that Tony kept coming back to. Prepared, and yet polite, sweet and sensual and sexy, without being the least bit arrogant about it. “Been thinkin’ about this all day,” he confessed, nipping at Tony’s ear, breathing warm along the shell. “Wondering’ what you had in mind, gettin’ down and dirty with you where someone’s gonna come along an’ shush us.”

“Mm, yeah? I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Tony said. “There’s so much I want to do with you, it’s hard to know where to even start.” He slid his hands up under Bucky’s shirt, feeling the smooth skin of his back, the muscle there rippling as Bucky kept grinding. “What gets your gears turning?” he wondered, curving his hands around to Bucky’s stomach.

Bucky kissed the tip of Tony’s nose, almost playful. “Move those hands up ‘bout four inches,” he suggested. “I’m damn sensitive.” He rolled his hips again with a suggestive grunt, biting his lower lip.

“Oh, yeah?” Tony reached a little higher and tweaked Bucky’s nipple the way he’d tweaked Tony’s before, circling it with a fingertip until it was pebbled and firm and Bucky was arching into it, already breathing hard. “Oh, you _are_ sensitive,” Tony said, pleased. Bucky was so damn hot when he let himself get lost in pleasure. Tony rucked up Bucky’s shirt higher and licked at that nipple, and then the other, sucking and flicking and grazing teeth over it, testing Bucky’s reactions. “God, that’s gorgeous.”

Bucky got his hands braced on either side of the chair’s arms, using the leverage to practically ride Tony’s thighs, his belly working, showing off those abs and then curling into softness again. “Yeah, that’s… that’s real sweet, I like--” his voice was breathy, barely audible, a soft whining counterpoint going on as he moved.

“I can see that,” Tony purred. His hips rolled upward and his dick was complaining about being trapped in his pants, but damn, Bucky looked so good on Tony’s lap... “You ever switch, honey? You want to ride me?”

Bucky glanced around, cheeks hot with color. “Gonna have’ta take my pants most of the way off for that,” he said, and his neck joined his cheeks with that brilliant flush. “But yeah, I-- yeah, I want that, want you so bad, kitten.”

“Me too,” Tony said. He nudged Bucky gently back off his lap. “Go on, I want to see you. You’re so damn hot...” He opened his own pants, fished the condoms and lube out of the pocket -- Bucky wasn’t the only one who could be prepared -- and set them on the edge of the study carrel before working his pants down over his knees. He practically sighed in relief as his cock sprang free, and then scooped up one of the packets of lube.

Bucky leaned down just long enough to rub his cheek, smooth under a prickle of beard, against the side of Tony’s dick, like he was saying hi to it. He straightened up and shucked his jeans, tugging a battered pair of keds through the leg holes. He should have looked ridiculous, tee hanging just under his navel, legs and ass and groin bare, shoes and socks still on, but even then, somehow, he made it work. “Glad I do crunches on the reg,” Bucky said, and he straddled Tony’s thighs.

Tony chuckled. “I am, too.” He opened packets, rolled one of the condoms over his fingers and smeared it with lube. “Going to be quick, okay?” He felt along Bucky’s crack, pressed against the hole, circling it, teasing.

“Yeah, I-- oh, there, that-- might have guessed,” Bucky said, holding himself up and mostly steady, his thighs quivering as he kept his weight balanced for Tony to work. “Mighta-- prepped a bit.”

Sweet Jesus, but that made for a hot mental image. Tony pushed in carefully, testing the give. “Very nice,” he praised. “Have to admit, I like that thought. You getting home from work and stripping off, fingering yourself open. Thinking about me, having me in you...” He twisted his wrist slowly, stretching, watching Bucky’s face.

The library was very quiet, only the whispering rush of the air circulating system, which made everything else very noticable; the way Bucky’s legs brushed against Tony’s slacks, the soft sound of their skin as they wriggled together, the harsh gasps of Bucky’s breathing, as he forced air into his lungs. Tony looked up and could have sworn he heard Bucky’s teeth snap together around a moan he didn’t dare utter.

“It gets you the same way it gets me, doesn’t it?” Tony murmured, curling his fingers in search of Bucky’s prostate. “Having to be quiet when you want to be yelling and moaning. Holding it back. Makes everything a little more intense, hm?”

Bucky nodded. “Wanna scream how good you are,” Bucky told him, his voice soft and strained. “Knowin’ someone else might hear, might see. It’s… it’s a _lot_.”

Tony was struck with the sudden urge to take Bucky to a hotel, or even back to the penthouse, to spread him out on a big bed and tease out every sound Bucky could make, to know what he sounded like when he was unrestrained and unabashed. To take it slow, to give him every bit of the worship he deserved...

Tony caught his breath and pushed the fantasy aside. Maybe someday, they would do that. But not now.

“I’m good,” Bucky told him. “Get-- condom, an’ hold it steady for me.”

Tony wasn’t about to argue. He grabbed a fresh condom and rolled it on, added another dollop of lube. He nearly hissed with the sensation when he curled his hand around the base of his cock to steady it. His other hand, he rested on Bucky’s hip. “Okay, honey, just ease on down.”

Bucky’s arms were shaking a little, but the way he looked, lip caught between his teeth, head rolling back, throat exposed with a glistening of perspiration, as he impaled himself on Tony’s dick was a sight that Tony didn’t think he’d ever forget.

Beautiful, sexy, and intense.

Bucky moved, still carrying most of his weight on his arms, stomach flexing and his hips shifting as he found his balance. When Bucky finally was fully flush with Tony’s thighs, he inhaled shaky and let out a low, soft sigh, body clenching and shuddering around Tony. He hissed, then slowly rolled his head on his neck until he was staring at Tony, and without looking away, maintaining fervid, hungry eye contact, he rocked himself on Tony’s cock.

“Oh, _god_ , that feels good,” Tony moaned. He kept his eyes on Bucky’s, focusing on the tight, hot squeeze of Bucky around him, the way Bucky’s lips were parted, the flush on Bucky’s skin. “Fuck, but you’re amazing.”

He bit his lip, waiting as Bucky settled into it, bottomed out and set a rhythm. “Oh, that’s perfect,” he purred, running his hand up and down Bucky’s side, stroking Bucky’s skin. He slipped up under Bucky’s shirt, seeking those stunningly sensitive nipples, flicking and rolling them, feeling the reactions judder down Bucky’s body.

Bucky rolled with him, moving like an ocean wave, inevitable and perfect, rhythm barely stuttering even as he shivered and shook at Tony’s touch, his cock proud and thrust up between them, dripping with the occasional gush of precome. “God, god,” he murmured a few times, obviously straining to keep his eyes open, that sensual, prolonged gaze that pierced right through Tony’s chest. “I got this, kitten, you jus’ sit back an’ relax.”

“And miss the opportunity to put my hands on you?” Tony gave Bucky’s cock a light stroke. “I don’t think so.”

Bucky made an utterly unmistakable sexual moan, and then tried to cover it with a cough that squeezed all his internal muscles as he spasmed, which probably should not have felt so good, but oh, god, it did, the way he twisted and twitched on Tony’s dick. And it quite obviously felt good to Bucky, too, since his eyes went wide with shock and then fluttered closed, unable to maintain that eye contact any longer, apparently lost in the sensation, moving, moving faster--

“Shhh!” someone hissed, startlingly close, only a few shelves away.

The shock of it tipped Tony right over the edge and he bit his lip _hard_ as he came, throat practically bulging with a groan that he didn’t dare let escape. He squeezed Bucky’s cock, jerking faster now. “Come on, sweetheart,” he whispered, “come for me now...”

Bucky’s face was flaming, throat red, but he thrust up into Tony’s fist, body clenching down on Tony’s oversensitive cock, and practically stopped breathing as he came. “Shit, shit, _shit--_ ” he whispered frantically, eyes still dazed as he spilled over Tony’s hand, and then, down Tony’s wrist, a few droplets splashing over Tony’s shirt.

“Oh, my god, shut up--” the person snapped, a little further away rather than closer, which was good, and then Bucky was giggling, which moved them together in more interesting ways, except Tony was so oversensitive and overstimulated that it almost ached.

“Shit, what a mess,” Bucky managed to say between giggles, barely audible little puffs of laughter that Tony could feel against his throat.

Tony was laughing too, slightly hysterical. “Hang on, hang on, I’ve got...” He grabbed for his pockets and found the little travel-pack of wipes. He handed one to Bucky, and then set about trying to make himself look a little less obviously freshly-laid.

Bucky cleaned up, minimally, but mostly struggled to get his pants back on without falling over, still snorting from time to time, and every time he and Tony locked gazes, both of them were cracking up. “High on hormones,” Bucky said, laughing into his cupped hand and then zipping himself up. “Oh, god.”

Tony grinned, collecting all the trash and stuffing it into the little trashcan under the study carrel, under a bunch of crumpled-up pages of notes. “We probably want to sneak out the back stairs,” he suggested.

“Probably, yes,” Bucky said, wiping his hands on the last wet nap, and then trying -- in vain, Tony rather thought -- to get his hair to lay flat. “Dunno about me, but you look, erm… rumpled.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, looking Bucky up and down. “It’s a good look on you, but... Yeah.” He tugged some of the wrinkles out of Bucky’s tee and fixed a particularly wild bit of hair.

Bucky shook his leg a few times while they were heading toward the stairwell, making a bit of a face. There were reasons, after all, why the top partner tended to fetch clean up supplies and let their lover lounge about in afterglow status for a bit. They were almost to the door when a random researcher looked up from a stack of books.

She gave them a long, steady glare, then, just as Bucky’s hand was on the door, said, “ _Men_ ,” in an utterly disgusted tone.

Bucky mouthed _sorry_ at her, but she didn’t seem the slightest bit mollified. Bucky pushed open the stairwell door and ushered Tony through. Once the door closed safely behind them, he grinned, wide and slightly sheepish, and utterly satisfied all at the same time. “Well, that was an adventure.”

“You have to seize these opportunities when they present themselves,” Tony said. “The cameras are going in next week.”

“Glad I got me an inside guy who knows all this stuff,” Bucky said, and without seeming to think about it, he took Tony’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

Tony hesitated for a second, surprised, but then squeezed back quickly, before Bucky could draw away.

Bad, _such_ a bad idea, but... maybe Bucky liked bad ideas as much as Tony did.

“Uff,” Bucky managed when they hit the ground floor and pushed out into the street. “I’mma go home, fall on my face for eight hours, and not answer any questions about why I can’t even walk tomorrow.”

“I’d say sorry, but I’d be lying.” Tony gave Bucky a small smile, trying to imagine what it could be like, if this were more than a booty call. “So, uh. Next time?”

“Yeah, got me some ideas already,” Bucky said, leaning in and giving Tony a kiss that seemed to transfer Bucky’s little smug smirk to Tony’s lip. “I’ll text you… like, after… tax day’s coming up, which, yeah, so I might be crunched for time, but I’ll text you.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”


	4. First of May (Getting back to Nature)

Bucky put his thumb in his mouth, chewing on the edge of the nail, while he considered his phone. He and Tony had texted several times in the last two weeks, had one sexting session that Bucky was almost ashamed to admit had him in the men’s room at work jerking off frantically into the toilet, but they hadn’t been able to meet up.

The NDA had come in, a fucking packet of legalese that Bucky had to take to a bank and have some Notary watch him sign it. Not that there weren’t notaries at work, but Bucky couldn’t imagine going to, say Jasper Sitwell with an agreement not to talk about his sex life, and to not end up being grilled about his damn sex life.

At least the bank lady only raised her eyebrows at him.

“So, uh… I know three dates is supposed to be the threshold for even considering sleeping with a new partner,” Bucky said, while he and Steve (and Clint and Sam) were taking turns on the PS4 (Clint and Sam, mostly) and drinking beer (Steve and Bucky) and throwing popcorn at each other (mostly Clint). “That’s still standard, right?”

“I guess?” Steve said. “I haven’t had any new partners for a while.”

“Yes,” Sam said decisively, his whole body twisting as he tried to keep his character from certain doom. “Three dates. Is a thing.” His character died, and he tossed the controller onto the table in disgust before looking over at Bucky curiously. “You been seeing someone? How come I ain’t heard about it ‘til just now?”

“He’s not seeing anyone,” Clint said, bumping Sam with his elbow. “Bucky is a sad, corporate stooge and he’s lying. He stays late at work because he thinks he’ll get promoted.”

Bucky didn’t entirely dispute that. “ _Stooge_ is uncalled for,” he said. “And I’m… not. Exactly. Sort of. I’m trying to calculate backward, if three dates for sex… how do you decide when you’re dating someone?”

Sam reached for a beer and eyed Bucky suspiciously over the rim of it. “Do not mistake after-work beers for dates,” he said.

“Wait, _are_ you seeing someone?” Steve said, eyes widening. “I thought, for a bit there, maybe, but then...” He shrugged. “I figured you’d have brought him around by now, if you were.”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ a figure out,” Bucky said. “I’m not… dating. It’s. I mean, it’s not a date, is it? There’s some date adjacent shit going on.”

“Is he buying you booze?” Clint wondered. “Because I’ve seen you drunk, Barnes, and you’re a cheap date.”

“I admit it,” Bucky said. “I’m a cheap floozy. Pour some vodka in me, I’m ready.”

“God, I did not need to hear that,” Clint said, tapping the volume on his hearing aid.

“Oh my god,” Sam said suddenly. “You’ve been _hooking up!_ ”

“What? No,” said Steve. “Bucky wouldn’t--” He paused, looking at Bucky. “...Would you?”

“I absolutely would,” Bucky said. “I absolutely do. Sometimes. Yes.” That sounded really defensive, and Bucky wasn’t sure, exactly, what he was feeling defensive about. “Sort of. Does it count as hooking up if it’s the same guy?”

“Depends,” Sam said. “Are you just running into each other by chance at the same hangouts?”

“No,” Bucky said. “I scored digits the first time, and we’ve been meeting up on purpose.”

“Booty call! Bucky’s got a speed dial sweetie,” Clint said, mockingly. “Which, like, you could say the same about me an’ Bobbi. I only get some when she’s bored and lonely. Which is… well, she’s got a short attention span. Gets bored easily.”

Steve was looking at Bucky with that pinched, worried look that he hated. “Do you _want_ to be dating this guy?”

“It’s… erm. _Complicated_ ,” Bucky said. “I like ‘im, but it might be for all th’ wrong reasons, and… moving things official might get… complicated. Which ain’t even asking th’ question of, does he even like me back, or am I just a convenient lay?”

Bucky wasn’t sure why Tony was still texting him, honestly. The sex was amazing; Bucky savored every memory of every moment. But Tony Stark could get laid anywhere, by anyone, so why was he coming to (and coming with) Bucky?

“What’s complicated? Is he married?” Clint wondered, stealing another beer.

“God, no,” Bucky said, horrified. “I might be easy, I ain’t _stupid_.”

“You do realize,” Sam said, leaning back into the couch cushions smugly, “we’re gonna keep buggin’ you ‘til you spill. So you might as well just let it all out right now.”

Steve gave Sam a vaguely disappointed look, but did not actually contradict him.

“Okay,” Bucky said, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I… I’ve… Jesus, you guys are not going to believe this, but I swear, truth. And I don’t even know how-- fuck… I’ve been seeing someone famous. Like, _really_ famous. Cover of _Time Magazine_ famous. I signed a goddamn NDA because if Pierce found out, I’d be totally grilled and toasted, and possibly fired if I didn’t have some sort of protection.”

“Is it Chris Evans?” Sam asked eagerly.

Clint snorted, choked on his beer. “Yeah, there’s no way that Bucky’s tapping that all-American ass. I will put actual cash money on that.”

“So, like fifty cents?”

“Oh shut up,” Clint said. “I have money.”

Bucky tucked his head down until his chin was resting on his chest. “I might sort of be banging Tony Stark,” he muttered, wondering if Clint’s righteous indignation about his not-quite-homeless status would cover it up.

No such luck. The room went dead silent and everyone stared at Bucky.

“Tony Stark,” Steve repeated.

“Tony Richer-Than-God Stark,” Sam clarified.

“Uh, yes,” Bucky squeaked.

“Well, you’re right,” Clint said. “I don’t believe that for a hot second.”

“You don’t have to,” Bucky said, not quite level, but close enough. “But, pretend you do for a minute, and that I might actually like this guy, but you can see where dating him might… be complicated, and help me out here.”

“It’s not that complicated,” Steve said. “Figure out how you feel about him, and then tell him that, and see if it matches how _he_ feels. Him being famous is a complication, sure, but it shouldn’t matter to how you feel about each other.”

“That’s Steve Rogers for you, all that giddy optimism,” Sam said. “No, Bucky’s right. It’s more complicated than that. Guy like that, had you sign an NDA, he’s gotta have trust issues a mile wide.”

“I _asked_ for that,” Bucky said. “You know where I work. You think Zola wouldn’t have me in some little room trying to get me to dump all my memories for just a hint of the next Stark product to hit the market?”

“You have _got_ to get a better job,” Steve muttered, a tired refrain.

Sam waved Steve off. “I ain’t sayin’ it’s not smart. I’m sayin’, _trust issues_. Whether he wants ‘em or not, he’s got to wonder if anyone he dates is after his money or his business. Not to mention the press would goddamn _swarm_ you once they got wind of it. And they’d be downright _mean_.”

“Oh, god,” Steve said suddenly. “ _Crown’s_.”

Bucky sighed. “I was hoping you’d have forgotten about that, but yes. That was us.” Bucky tapped his phone again, considering the long scroll of texts between him and Tony. Sometimes they were setting up booty calls, but-- yesterday Tony had sent him a text picture of his pet robot who’d doused a birthday card with fire suppressant because there was a picture of a cupcake on the front, with a candle.

_He’s learning. So proud._

“So,” Clint said, poking Steve’s leg with the game controller. “You like him enough that you’re considering the consequences of your actions. Sounds adult and boring to me. Just go fuck him and have fun with it.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Clint. “I do think Steve is right about one thing. You’re gonna have to talk to him, sooner or later.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He shoved his hair out of his face with one hand, scrolled to the bottom of the texts again. _You busy?_

The thing was… talking and figuring things out… sometimes they led to bad places. Places like Tony deciding Bucky was too damn clingy or too much of a hassle. Tony could get a quick, easy fuck anyplace he wanted it.

And Bucky felt a weird frisson of pain in his chest at the idea of Tony _walking away_.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck--

His phone buzzed.

_Surprisingly, not. Got an idea?_

_Many. It’s the First of May._ Bucky tapped his phone, not looking at his friends. He pulled up a video from YouTube and attached it.

About five minutes later, the phone buzzed again. _I am not fucking the man with the tan shar pei but I will absolutely brush the ants off._

_I will absolutely take your pants off._ Bucky tapped his phone a few more times and added some suggestive little emojis. _Let me ditch my crew and I’ll meet you--_ He pulled up google maps and checked the park entrances. _Over by the monarch butterfly garden, Brower Park? In like an hour?_

_See you then._ It was followed up with the kissy-face emoji, which was probably just Tony being flirty and not romantic at all.

“Man, you have got it _bad,_ ” Sam said.

“What?” Bucky looked up from his phone. Everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing and were looking at him like-- he didn’t even know, like he’d committed a mid-grade social faux pas and they were all distressed on his behalf. “What?”

“Just... be careful, Buck,” Steve said earnestly.

“I can’t believe we’re gonna have to give the shovel talk to _Tony Stark_ ,” Sam said.

“You’re not giving a shovel talk to Tony,” Bucky said, firmly. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not-- I… can’t.” Bucky swallowed hard. “I can’t walk away from this, and I swear to Christ, I will disown any of you, yes, even _you_ , Steve, if you fuck this up for me by scarin’ him off.”

Steve and Sam exchanged a look. “Sure, Buck,” Steve said in a mild tone that Bucky knew damn well wasn’t the least bit trustworthy. “Whatever you say, pal.”

_Follow the smell of mustard and hot dogs,_ Bucky texted. _I’m starved._

“Right. I’m going out,” Bucky said. “I’ll talk to you losers when I get back.”

“Enjoy your date,” Sam yelled, an instant before the door closed between them.

The park was nice, the day was warm but not too humid, and school was still in, so the baseball games hadn’t started up yet. There were dog owners walking their puppies, and someone who actually had a turtle on a leash. Not the weirdest thing Bucky had ever seen, so okay. He picked up two chili cheese dogs and a coke and waited for Tony on one of the park benches.

Tony showed up almost exactly on time, sliding onto the bench next to Bucky with a smirk. “Hi, gorgeous.” He was dressed casually, for a change, jeans and an old band tee that looked so worn it was nearly transparent. “Glad to see you. Is it weird if I say I kind of missed you?”

“Yeah, work’s been _awful_ ,” Bucky said, warming to the sentiment. “Missed you, too. You want a dog? It’s chilli, cheese an’ coleslaw, and I _know_ , everyone says I’m cracked in the head, but the cart’s just over there if you want to pick your toppings.” Bucky jerked his chin in the direction of the vendor.

“I’ll try just about anything once,” Tony said with a suggestive little wink, and liberated one of the dogs Bucky was holding. “Besides, I like putting your weiner in my mouth.”

Bucky leaned back on the bench to watch Tony be mildly obscene with his hot dog. “And I like watchin’ you do it, too.” Yeah, the fuck was he giving this up, it didn’t matter in the slightest that Tony might be using him for sex. Bucky loved the stupid little jokes, and the crude innuendos and those little zings of excitement when Tony made a Star Trek joke or a ridiculous pun. And the sex. The sex was pretty great, too.

Crap. The sex… was the second thing on Bucky’s list. Almost a goddamn after thought.

Fuck. Looked like Sam might be right. “Have any fun while I was locked up in research trying to make sense of Tim Cook’s cracked up business plan?”

“A little,” Tony said, licking cheese off his thumb. “It was a mile marker at our house, too, which meant I got shunted down to development to clean them up and get everything back on track. Which I actually enjoy doing. Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you about any of it.”

“Preciate that, really,” Bucky said. “Uh, which reminds me, I wasn’t entirely clear, although I did read it. I’m allowed to, you know, tell my friends we’re…” he waved a hand around in the air, as if trying to sum up what they were doing without naming what they were doing.

“Hm? Oh, sure,” Tony said. “If we’re seen together in public too much more, the paps’ll start putting it together anyway. Not that they won’t draw all the wrong conclusions, probably, but as long as you’re not passing on any private or proprietary data to your friends, it’s fine.”

Bucky took the last two bites of his hot dog, chasing them with coke. “I’m not sure they believe me anyway, so it’s just as well. But, speaking of not being seen, I got a blanket, and there’s a low wall over there between the park and the school where ought not be anyone for several hours, if you want to actually lay down for a change.”

“Yeah?” Tony swallowed the last of his dog in an impressive gulp. “That might be fun and novel. Lead on.” He stood up and gestured for Bucky to precede him down the path.

The cement wall was only about four feet high, really, just a symbolic barrier between the park and the school. About six feet of grass and walkway before the brick of the building, but there were no windows in the school that overlooked it, and the only actual walking entrance was around the corner.

Bucky hopped up on the wall and extended a hand to Tony, to clamber on over. “I used to go to school here,” Bucky said. “And the hoodlums all used to smoke out here, where the teachers wouldn’t find them. Except they always, _always_ did.” There was a shortage of butts at the moment, so either teen smoking was down, or the teachers patrolled back here more often.

Tony chuckled as he slid to the ground and looked around the little area. “Do anything else back here before?” He pulled the blanket off Bucky’s arm and unfolded it, spreading it over the thickest grass.

“Maybe so,” Bucky said, feeling his throat heat. He might have been introduced to the concept of blowjobs, one hazy Wednesday after second bell and he might have decided to skip class with the guy who offered… but high school was a long time ago.

Tony looked pleased, though, even as he stretched out on the blanket, pillowing his head on his folded hands like some kid from a Norman Rockwell painting. “This is nice. Cozy.” He peered up at Bucky. “You planning to join me?”

“I swear, every time I think you couldn’t possibly get sexier, you surprise me,” Bucky said, dropping onto the ground at Tony’s side. “I mean, look at this, right here.” He traced his finger along the exposed strip of skin that had rucked up between Tony’s tee and jeans. “I feel like I oughta write poetry about this, how fuckin’ gorgeous you are, how much I just wanna--” He scooted down and licked that naked skin. “Taste every inch of you.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Tony said. He spread his arms out and tipped his head back, letting his eyes fall closed. “All yours.”

_You got no idea how much I wish that were true,_ Bucky thought, and then nuzzled Tony’s tee up, using his teeth and chin to push-pull it out of the way before he made slow, sensual love to Tony’s hip, across his belly, and nipped light on his ribs.

Tony sighed, wriggling a little to get comfortable, arching up into those little sharp bites, let out a breathy little moan when Bucky found tender spots. “God, yes, that’s so nice...”

“Yeah?” Bucky moved between Tony’s legs, mouthing over the area just below his navel and above the belt. He rolled his tongue around in his mouth a moment, giving Tony all sorts of come hither looks. “Don’t wanna be nice with you, wanna be dirty.”

Bucky yanked Tony’s belt open, and then used his teeth and tongue to tug the button open and the zipper down. All the while shooting Tony his best bedroom eyes. Which, based on the way Tony’s breath sped, were very, very effective.

He rubbed his cheek against the satiny boxers that Tony was wearing. In the distance, above the constant buzz of city traffic, he heard some kids yelling, the whistle of a bat, and the crack of someone smacking the shit out of a baseball. _Home run,_ Bucky thought, and looked down at Tony. _Lucky me._

“Oh god,” Tony groaned, his hand stroking feather-light over Bucky’s head. “Those eyes, that mouth of yours, ought to be illegal.” He lifted his hips and shoved at his pants, pushing them down as much as he could without dislodging Bucky.

Bucky took a deep breath, relishing the scent of Tony’s skin, that deep musk combined with whatever fancy soap he used. “Oh, Christ, I wanna taste you,” he told Tony, then looked up at him. “Look, this is… I’m clean. Do you trust me to give you head without a rubber?”

Tony just looked at him for a long moment, some sort of calculation spinning behind his eyes, and then he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m, uh. Clean. Too. Fresh test results just last week if you want to see them.”

Bucky almost stopped to wonder why, and then decided, like everything else, really, he’d think about that later. “Thank you,” he said, both for the trust and the privilege and then licked the head of Tony’s cock as if he was sampling an ice cream. Tony tasted almost as good as he looked, clean and fresh and salty and sweet all at once.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Tony gasped, hand clenching at the blanket. “Bucky, _Christ_ , that’s, god, do that again.”

Bucky tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “Anything for you,” he said, and then he got to work. There was no one waiting to use the bathroom, this wasn’t a dirty club, and they didn’t necessarily have to be quiet. Bucky licked and nibbled and sucked and wondered if he could possibly make Tony scream. Beg. Ache and want and need.

He got Tony nice and wet, added a hand to the mix to twist and squeeze lightly at the base of Tony’s dick, and when Tony wouldn’t stay still, helplessly squirming, he leaned on those lean, glorious thighs.

Tony outright _whined_ at that, the sweetest, most glorious sound of desperation. His hands seemed to pick up all the movement that Bucky wasn’t allowing his hips, roaming restlessly to stroke through Bucky’s hair, slide over Bucky’s shoulders, clench at the blanket or just squeeze into fists. He panted out curses and praise and encouragement and pleas, stammering and whimpering and still trying to buck up into Bucky’s mouth.

God, Bucky loved this, he loved it; it’d never been like this, wanting to please a partner so bad, and his own satisfaction was a dim second place. If he came, great, and if he didn’t, he was still relishing every second of it. The way Tony moved and swore and the way he throbbed in Bucky’s mouth. The way his lip stretched and the way his jaw ached a little. The way he always, always seemed to get a stuffy nose, because that was just unnecessary, and his eyes would water, and… all of it.

Every bit as perfect as it could be. Best best sex ever.

Tony’s soft sounds took on a new pitch of desperation and his fingers spasmed in Bucky’s hair. “Shit, shitshit fuck, I’m going to, Bucky, I’m right, right on the edge, you’ve got to...” His back was arched so high it nearly looked painful. “Bucky!”

Bucky worked his tongue over Tony’s shaft, tightened his lips and swallowed, feeling the ripple of his tongue and cheeks as he did it, and then Tony came, salt and bitter, and Bucky let it flood over his tongue and into his cheek before swallowing again, taking it, wanting, wanting so damn--

“ **OW**!”

Something hit him, just to the left of his kidney, painful and hard and… bounced a few times. “Jesus fuck--”

Tony sat up, eyes wide and already looking around for trouble. His gaze landed on the... baseball. “...Huh.”

From the far side of the wall, a kid’s voice yelled, “Yeah, I’ve got it, gimme a minute!”

Tony’s eyes got even wider and he let out a stifled squeak, crabbing back against the wall and dragging the blanket out from under Bucky and up over his lap.

“Jesus,” Bucky whined, the spot where he’d been hit stopped burning and started throbbing. He reached, couldn’t quite get it, and crawled, balls aching with suppressed lust, kidney complaining. His mouth tasted like come and sudden dirt, and-- His fingers brushed over the ball and then he managed to snag it.

He rolled over and pegged it, aiming for a high, wide arc.

Tony was pressed up against the wall, tight as he could get. Unless the kid -- whoever he was -- leaned over the wall, he wasn’t likely to see anything incriminating.

“Oh, yeah, wow, thanks, mister!” a bright face peered over, saw Bucky, and waved the ball at him.

Bucky lay on his side, his back hurting, and looked up at the kid. “No worries, have a good game.”

Tony watched Bucky intently, then cocked his head slightly as the sound of the kid’s footsteps headed off. As the sounds of the game resumed, he relaxed with a huge sigh. “Jesus _Christ_.” He shoved the blanket back onto the ground, then crawled over toward Bucky. “You okay? Where did it get you?”

Wincing, Bucky tugged up his shirt, trying to twist around to look, but-- “oh, fuck me, that hurts.”

Tony crawled around behind him, lifting the shirt a little higher, and then he hissed through his teeth. “That’s gonna be a hell of a bruise when it comes in,” he said, apologetically. He touched Bucky’s skin, tracing around the outside of -- Bucky assumed -- where the bruise was forming. It was a light enough touch that it didn’t hurt, but close enough to the site of the pain that Bucky winced anyway. “It hurt so bad we need to go to the ER?”

“I don’t--” Bucky considered the state of his bank account and his ridiculously high ER co-pay. “--don’t think so. If I start having discolored urine, I’ll re-evaluate.” Jesus, just the thought of taking a piss right now made his balls want to retract all the way inside his body.

“Okay.” Tony came back around to where Bucky could see him. “I’m lucky you didn’t bite me, honestly.” He heaved a breath, let it out slow. “And you didn’t even get off.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” Bucky groaned. “Look, I know this-- us, we’re just a… and I don’t want to impose, but maybe you could call me a cab or something back to my place?”

“You’re not imposing, Jesus.” Tony grabbed his pants and pulled them up. “You’re _hurt_ , it’s fine, I wouldn’t make you walk home even if I’d just been walking by randomly when you got hit. I’ve got a car just on the side of the park, if you think you can make it that far.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky said. “Okay. Let me… text my roommate, he can--” Bucky tried to reach for his phone, but- “Jesus, **ow**. I do not like this, I did not deserve this at all. Can you--”

“Yep.” Tony pulled Bucky’s phone out of his back pocket for him and put it in his hands. “Come on, let me help you up; you can text while we’re walking. It’ll help keep your mind off the pain.” He slipped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and helped him stand, all but lifting Bucky bodily.

Bucky let Tony guide, trusting him not to walk them off a cliff or anything. “Round the side, the exit’s over-- no fuckin’ way I’m climbing back up that wall.”

_Tell Sam I need his kit._ Bucky texted, letting autocorrect fix most if his terrible spelling. _I got hit with a ducking baseball._

“Ug, autocorrect, I never, ever in my life have meant _ducking_. Whatever.”

Steve answered quickly, thank God. _Sam’s gone to get his kit. Baseball? Thot you were on a date?_

_Long story, boring. Took a ducking popfly to the kidney. Feel like shit._

The car was nice. Holy shit the car was nice. “I’m gonna cry,” Bucky told him. “You’re about to pour me into Bugatti Chiron and I can’t even _appreciate_ it? God, that’s almost as pretty as you are.” Despite his whining, Bucky managed to run one wondering hand over the dark blue paint, the sleek lines.

Tony chuckled. “If I’d known you liked cars, I’d have offered a ride before now. We can take her back out again when you’re feeling better, if you want.”

“God, I will blow you again for the privilege,” Bucky managed, and sitting down in that car was the best and worst thing he’d ever done, because, oh, _god_ , the car was lovely, and -- “shit shit shit shit, that… hurts.” And he was about half a breath away from actually bursting into tears.

Tony leaned over and reached into the glovebox, pulling out what looked like one of those weird U-shaped travel pillows. “It’s not much, but let’s tuck this behind you so you’re not leaning so firmly against the seat,” he suggested.

“Thank you,” Bucky said. Tony looked actually concerned, and of course he did… Jesus. Bucky might be his mostly anonymous booty call, but Tony was an actual person, and Bucky was pretty sure Tony considered Bucky an actual person. Still, it was nice to see it, the way those wide brown eyes tracked every expression on Bucky’s face.

_I’m bringing Stark over. You will not freak out._

The little ... appeared, disappeared, then came back. Eventually, Steve said, _We will not freak out until he’s gone._

“Okay,” Bucky said. “Uh, my place isn’t far. Like, go down two blocks, turn left, and pray there’s a parking space. Sometimes there’s street parking.”

Tony smiled sunnily. “There’s always parking if you’re not worried about fines,” he said. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll get you taken care of.”

There was parking, as it turned out. Bucky wasn’t sure the space was actually big enough for the Chiron -- it was sized more for one of those dinky SmartCars -- but Tony just winked and reversed into the spot as smoothly as if it had wheels that turned sideways. “A little-recognized benefit of superior handling,” he said, “is that it makes parallel parking much easier.” He slid out of the car and was opening Bucky’s door before Bucky even managed to straighten up all the way. “Okay, take it easy, here.”

“Right, got it. Key fob.” Bucky dug around for it in his front pocket, trying not to wince too much or too noticably, but Tony was pressed right up against him, helping him walk. Be just his fucking luck if the paps got them with this little scene. But there was Steve, pushing the main door open already.

“What the hell happened, Buck?” Steve demanded, then looked at Tony. “Mr. Stark.”

“You must be the roommate,” Tony said calmly, not taking his arm from around Bucky as they made their way up the stairs. “Steve, right? Call me Tony. We were in the park and he got hit with a baseball, right in the back. Pretty bad bruise. He didn’t want to go to the ER, but movement is pretty painful.”

“All right.” Steve was still glaring suspiciously, because that was what Steve did. “Buck--”

“Stuff it, ya punk,” Bucky growled. “You’re not the only one allowed to get hurt around here. Steve here likes to pick fights with muggers and shit. All, you know, ninety pounds of him. Tony can help me up to the sofa.”

“Sam went to get his kit,” Steve said. “He should be back soon. Got an ice pack upstairs with your name on it.”

“Funny, I thought they all had your name on ‘em,” Bucky managed. Thank god the management company had gotten the elevator fixed. He would have outright died, trying to climb seven flights.

“Ha ha,” Steve said, thumbing the button. “You got him, Mr. Stark-- er, Tony, or you need me to take him off your hands?”  

“I’ve got him for now,” Tony said. “You’ll need to help direct. And keep an eye on him in case it does turn out he needs to go to the ER later.” He gave Bucky a look. “Go to the ER if you need to,” he said firmly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, kitten, I hear ya,” he said. “Left of the elevator, 721. Right side of the hall. Clint better not still be on my couch, I want to die on my couch and he better not be on it.”

Steve darted ahead and opened the door.

“Tony, Hawkeye. Our other other roommate, sometimes,” Bucky said. “Get the hell out of my seat, Clint.” He swayed rather alarmingly and practically fell onto the couch, tugging Tony down with him.

“Stop yelling,” Clint said, signing the words. “I can’t hear you anyway.”

Tony let Bucky pull him down onto the couch. He waved gamely at Clint. “Hi, I’m Tony.”

“Aw, bet, no,” Clint whined, digging around in his pocket. He put two quarters on the table in front of Bucky.

Bucky found himself laying mostly face down on the couch, the most comfortable position, and when Steve rucked his shirt up to look at the bruise and put an ice pack on it, he practically crawled into Tony’s lap, resting his head on Tony’s thigh. He hissed, and then the cold started to sink in, which felt better.

Tony petted his hair, which felt nice, and made idle conversation with Steve and Clint as if it were no big deal for him to suddenly turn up in a random apartment in Brooklyn. Steve and Clint mostly played along, which was good, because Bucky didn’t think they’d find his glare very threatening, under the circumstances. This close to Tony, Bucky could still faintly detect the scent of sex, which was weirdly comforting, too. It seemed to remind his hindbrain that not everything was all pain all the time.

Sam came back in not long after, peeled the ice pack back and made a clucking noise, like some momma chicken. “Yeah, that looks like it hurts.”

“Thanks, doc,” Bucky muttered. “What can you do for me?”

“Gonna stab a needle into your ass, actually,” Sam said, pulling on a pair of blue gloves. “And I’m gonna enjoy it, too. Mr. Stark, can you get his belt and shove his pants down a bit, this is an IM injection. It’s just lidocaine, nothing major, but it’ll help with pain.”

Bucky thought about protesting being treated like an idiot, but he really didn’t want to move much, and it wasn’t like Tony hadn’t already seen him with his pants off.

“Yep, I can do that,” Tony agreed. Carefully, he helped Bucky roll up onto his side, then worked off the belt and opened his pants a little. He didn’t make any dumb little innuendo jokes or try to grope Bucky while he did it, which probably wasn’t too surprising, given the audience, but Bucky kind of missed it anyway. He peeled down the top bit of Bucky’s pants and boxers, then contorted slightly to check Bucky’s face. “How do you feel about shots?” he asked. “Do you need to be distracted? Because I can be very distracting.”

“I’m okay,” Bucky said, put he kept his forehead against Tony’s thigh, because he didn’t hate needles, but god, he didn’t like watching them go in.”

“I’m gonna count to three. One, two--” Stab. Because that was Sam through and through. Bucky stiffened a moment. You’d think getting hit with a baseball would make getting a shot hurt less. You would think. You might be wrong.

Sam put the ice pack back in place and spread a blanket over Bucky to keep the rest of him warm.

“You gonna stay a bit, be my pillow?” Bucky wondered.

“Sure,” Tony said quietly, petting Bucky’s hair again. “Long as you need me.”

“I always need you,” Bucky said, snuggling against Tony’s leg, hand on Tony’s knee. This was nice. Yeah. Nice. The lidocaine always made his mouth taste funny, like garlic, but the pain eased up by degrees and then he was just sleepy. His eyes drifted shut and the conversation went on around him.

He wasn’t quite asleep, not quite, when Sam said, “You know, I was gonna talk to you about him. Or one of us would have. But… I don’t guess I need to, do I?”

“You can go ahead, if it’ll make you feel better,” Tony said, his voice a warm rumble at the back of Bucky’s head. “I know if it was my best friend, I’d want to.”

“I don’t want to tell you your business,” Steve said in that voice that meant he absolutely did want to tell everyone Tony’s business, and how he should be conducting it. “But he’s getting attached. If that’s not your long term plan--”

“And Steve is always the man with the plan,” Clint piped up.

Bucky wanted to protest this; bad enough they were talking about it, but he was still in the damn room, people, please. It didn’t seem to matter, since his body had completely stopped taking orders from his brain, and even opening his eyes seemed like too much effort.

Tony sighed a little, still petting Bucky’s hair. “I don’t know what he told you,” Tony said. “But we’ve only seen each other a handful of times. It’s a little soon to be throwing around phrases like ‘long term plan.’ But I like him. I think it’s worth exploring. If he wants to -- and that’s a big if. No, don’t make that face at me. Attached is one thing. That’s nice. But actually dating me -- being in the public eye with it, because there is no reliable way for me to keep a relationship under cover for more than a few weeks -- that’s a whole different ball game, and he needs to understand all those pros and cons before he makes that decision. I would not blame him if he didn’t want to deal with all that.”

Bucky made a noise against Tony’s leg. He still couldn’t open his eyes, and he didn’t want to move, but he managed to squeeze Tony’s knee. “Shaddup, I like you,” he said. “Worth it.” And if there was any response to that, he missed it, because the pain meds and headache and exhaustion carried him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tony’s car](https://assets.bugatti.com/fileadmin/_processed_/sei/p54/se-image-e6678a2b1c56c59044f81a3742c784d4.jpg)
> 
> [Link to First of May video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kCbD8nsxcd8) (Note, there's a LOT of swearing in this song, you might not want to listen to it at work


	5. All Works of Art Should be Nailed to the Wall

It was probably dumb to feel nervous.

Right?

When you had your first actual, official date with the guy you’d been banging for a couple of months, that really wasn’t an occasion for anxiety. Excitement. Appreciation. Enjoyment. What was there to be nervous about? Tony and Bucky knew they _liked_ each other already, and god knew they already knew they were sexually compatible.

Tony was still nervous. There were so, so many ways that he could screw this up, now that he’d had to admit this thing with Bucky was more than a booty call.

He took a breath, reminded himself that he _probably_ was not going to fuck everything up immediately on their first date, and knocked on Bucky’s door.

The door swung open to reveal Bucky’s tiny little roommate, Steve. Steve Rogers looked like a stiff breeze might knock him on his ass, but his scowl looked like it belonged on a six foot beefcake brawler. Steve yelled over his shoulder. “Buck-- your date’s here.” He gave Tony a dubious look. “He’s panicking. I think he’s tried on every pair of slacks he owns. Twice.”

Knowing that Bucky was nervous too was actually... calming. “I went through at least twelve different ties and six pairs of shoes,” Tony said, raising his voice so Bucky would hear him, and then he gave up even pretending that he was talking to Steve and leaned sideways to say, “You look amazing, come on!”

Tony had never actually seen Bucky in a suit; club clothes and jeans and a wide variety of nerdy tee shirts, but… what walked out of the hallway was Bucky, clad in a dark grey wool suit with a red shirt and a matching tie, red with dots. The suit was cut in a way that showed off Bucky’s powerful thighs, graceful wrists, and made his eyes practically glow in the dark.

“Says the male model,” Bucky scoffed, taking in Tony with an appreciative smirk and lifted eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re both gorgeous, get out of my house before you give me a complex,” Steve complained.

“You’re very pretty too, Steven,” Tony said, half-smirking as he offered Bucky his arm. “And I feel like I should point out that I was never paid for those pictures, so technically...”

“Do not flirt with Steve,” Bucky cautioned. “Nat will break you into tiny little pieces if she thinks you’re making a move on her man.”

“I was not flirting,” Tony protested. “That would be very rude of me to do right in front of my actual date, don’t you think? I was just offering consolation. We _are_ a hard act to follow.” He leaned back to look at Bucky again. Bucky -- or whoever had picked out the suit for him -- had an amazing eye for how to flatter his features. If Tony could ever get Bucky into his tailor’s hands, the results would be _blindingly_ beautiful.

“Don’t wait up,” Bucky told Steve and he closed the door firmly behind him. “Seriously? I… god you look good enough to eat.” They got about five feet down the hall before Bucky pulled Tony in for a kiss, almost light, not quite chaste. A quick flick of his tongue against the corner of Tony’s mouth, and then he let Tony go with a suddenness that was almost disappointing.

Tony nearly stumbled, trying to follow that kiss. “Oh, you’re going to be dangerous tonight, aren’t you?” He grinned. “I like it. You really do look amazing. Why have I never seen you in a suit before? This is a game-changer.”

“Because we go out for hot dogs and cheap chicken and to get busy in the bathroom. And I have a distressingly bad habit of wiping my hands on my pants, which, the dry cleaner does not like that,” Bucky admitted.

“Fair,” Tony admitted. “But now that I’ve seen this, I’m going to plot to get you in suits more often. And out of them.”

“Come by Hydra some day, I’m in a suit constantly at work-- no, nevermind, do not do that, bad plan, I’d lose you almost immediately to the raptors,” Bucky said. The elevator hit the ground floor. “Tell me you brought the Bugatti?”

“Of course I brought the Bugatti,” Tony said. “I am trying to impress you with my sophistication and good taste; what’s in better taste than a sexy car?”

“I’m sure there are other things,” Bucky said, walking in a daze toward the car, his fingers already twitching as if to rub down the curves. “This thing is a _work of art_.” He admired the car for long moments, then, “the only thing I’ve seen prettier than this car is her driver.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Tony promised. He leaned in to claim another kiss, but since they were on the street, he didn’t linger over it the way he wanted to, just brushed Bucky’s lips once, twice, and then stepped back and opened the door for him. “Shall we?”

“Oh yeah,” Bucky said, sliding into the passenger side. “You can take me anywhere…” He gave Tony a quick wink, pulling the door closed.

And Tony had thought Bucky was playful and flirtatious _before_ they’d decided to try dating? Wow. Grinning, he made his way back to the driver’s seat. “Buckled in? Back’s all better?”

“Yeah, still looks like crap, but it doesn’t hurt unless you push on it,” Bucky said. “Which of course Clint has been doing whenever he thinks I’m not paying attention. That guy’s aim in uncanny.”

Tony snorted. “That’s probably just his way of showing affection.” He checked the street for traffic, then dropped the car into gear and peeled out, showing off, just a little.

Bucky whistled, low under his breath, as Tony took advantage of the performance of his car to weave through the traffic, fitting into spaces that would make a cabbie nervous. Unlike half of his passengers, though, Bucky didn’t grab the oh shit bar, or try to stomp on the air brakes. He let the car’s momentum snuggle him into the seat and grinned like a kid. “You are the best kind of crazy.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Tony said. He downshifted and jumped across three lanes, then took a corner. “Sometime, maybe, we’ll plan a day trip, get her out of the city and really open her up.”

Bucky’s hand came down on Tony’s thigh. “Sounds great,” he admitted. “You can get my engine going… efficiency is good.” Those fingers dandled against Tony’s inner thigh, sliding up the inseam suggestively.

It was distracting enough that Tony nearly missed their turn. “Dangerous,” he said fondly, pulling into the parking garage. “Believe it or not, the car was not actually the date.”

“I like big motors and I cannot lie,” Bucky said. “Two awesome cookies around whatever ice cream you have planned. I can deal.”

Bucky waited, almost placidly delighted, to let Tony hand him out of the car, letting his hand linger in Tony’s for a moment. “So, what are we doing?”

Oh, right. Nerves. Tony had almost forgotten. “Uh. So you mentioned that your roommate likes art, and you never really said if you did, but I figure if he’s your roommate and your best friend, you have to have _some_ appreciation, yeah? So, um. The MoMA has an exhibit of works inspired by classic sci-fi. I thought it would be... fun?”

“Oh, _nice_ ,” Bucky said. “Like, Robbie the Robot, and all those sleek, metal torpedo looking ships. Before we figured out that space ships could be any shape, if they didn’t have to enter the atmo. Not like you need aerodynamics when you don’t have any air.” Bucky was talking a mile a minute, and he took Tony’s hand again, like he needed to hold himself down, keep himself from floating away.

Relief washed over Tony like a cool breeze. “Yes, exactly,” he said, leading them toward the museum entrance. “I thought we’d have a look around, and then I have reservations for us at the restaurant, for dinner.”

“Sounds lovely,” Bucky said, and when they got a double-take from someone (God, Tony was so used to it when people recognized him in public, but the staring was old, and he didn’t want to scare Bucky off so fast) Bucky actually looked smug, tucking Tony’s arm in his and ignoring the starer.

Maybe... Just maybe. It might not be a disaster, after all.

They let a docent direct them to the exhibit, and it was really pretty nice. There were some abstract pieces that Tony couldn’t make heads or tails of, but he wound up nearly enthralled by a series that presented short clips of old black-and-white movies in which only a single color had been added.

Bucky went through those with delight, naming the movie first before moving closer to read the plaque and make sure he was right. He had watched a lot of late night classic scifi movies, and they ended up discussing the merits of _Metropolis_ versus _Silent Running_.

This was... really, really nice, Tony decided. Walking through the museum hand-in-hand, talking about whatever came up, just enjoying the company, without any expectation of sex. Not that Tony didn’t want sex, but... They didn’t have to hide this. Didn’t have to avoid being seen or heard, didn’t have to worry about what other people were thinking. They were just a couple, looking at art and basking in each other’s presence. It was easy. Fun. Flirty and playful.

And then they got turned around, somehow, and wound up going down the wrong hall and ending up at a door that had a sign on it stating that a new exhibit was under construction and the museum was very sorry for the inconvenience.

“Oops,” Bucky said, and, rather daring, put his hand on the latch, which moved under his fingers. “Huh, it’s not locked.”

Tony looked at the door. Then he looked at Bucky. Bucky looked back. Tony licked his lips.

Bucky’s eyebrow went up. “Somethin’ on your mind, kitten?”

It was such a bad idea. They shouldn’t, they _really_ shouldn’t. This was supposed to be their _normal people date_.

But that unlocked door and the empty room were practically _calling_ them.

Tony took a breath, tried to steady himself. _Such_ a bad idea. “It _is_ a museum,” he said lightly. “All the works of art should be nailed to the wall.”

“ _Best_ kind of crazy,” Bucky swore fervently, took a quick look around and opened the door, slipping inside.

Tony checked the walls -- no cameras were up yet; he could see the wiring dangling where they would be. The art itself was covered in protective sheeting. There was a stepladder on one side of the room and several buckets of paint.

Bucky crowded up into Tony’s personal space, pushing him against the wall, his mouth brushing just over Tony’s lips, a brief, fairy-wing pressure before pulling back again. “You want it,” Bucky told him, more than asked. “You are… so beautiful, I want you, all the time.”

“Always,” Tony breathed. “I always want you. You make me crazy, in all the best ways.” He reached up, cradled Bucky’s neck in his hands, pulled himself up into a kiss, fervent and hungry. He groaned, stroking his hands down Bucky’s chest to toy with the fastenings of his slacks. “I hadn’t... planned this,” he admitted. “I was going to do it right.”

“Don’t act like I don’t get off on it, kitten,” Bucky said. “You got any idea how it makes me feel, you wantin’ me so much?” He grabbed Tony’s hand and pushed it down until he was rutting against Tony’s palm.

Tony closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation take over everything, the slightly rough weave of the wool, the hot hardness underneath, grinding into Tony’s hand, wanting, needing _him_. It was enough to make him breathless. He opened his eyes again, looked up into Bucky’s, clear and dark. “Yeah,” he said roughly, curling his hand around Bucky’s length, stroking through the layers of wool and cotton. “Yeah, I think I’ve got something of an idea.”

He stroked Bucky again, then went back to unfastening Bucky’s trousers. “But I didn’t _plan_ it,” he repeated, “so I don’t have... stuff. But I would love to get my mouth on you again.” The zipper fell open and Tony slid his hand under the band of Bucky’s boxers, skin on skin, finally.

“Yeah, I hear you,” Bucky said, his hand lightly pushing on Tony’s shoulder. Down, down. “I’ll keep my hands out of your ‘do, so you don’t get sex hair. God, yeah, Tony _please--_ ” He bit his lip letting his head roll back to expose his throat.

Tony dropped to his knees, tugged Bucky’s pants down just enough to free that beautiful cock, and wasted no time getting to work. Without the too-sweet condom between them, Bucky tasted like salt and skin, clean and spicy-smelling with whatever he’d washed with. Tony’s tongue flicked over his slit, picking up the bitter tang of precome and moaning softly at the way it made his mouth water.

Bucky rocked his hips, knees flexing, his legs shivering. “So, so sweet, kitten, jus’ like--”

“Oh, Jesus!” Someone yelled, obviously started, and there was a clatter of noise as the intruder staggered backward, hit the pile of paint cans and knocked several of them over.

Bucky squeaked like a mouse that someone had stepped on, hand going down to guard what remained of his dignity. “Shit--”

Oh, _fuck_. Around Bucky’s thigh, Tony could see the intruder, a museum worker, obviously, who’d come in to do some work and was now staring at him, wide-eyed. _Shit_.

Tony pulled Bucky’s pants up for him but didn’t try to fasten them. He ducked out from under Bucky’s arm and turned his most charming smile on the worker. “Okay, our bad,” he said. “Sorry. Can we maybe just--”

“Security,” the guy said into a radio clipped to his shirt collar. “I got a couple o’ indecent folk in the new wing.”

“...not do that,” Tony said lamely.

“Oh my god--” Bucky said, his neck brick red and his eyes going straight to the floor as if hoping for a convenient crack through the earth’s crust to open up.

What do you know? Tony thought wryly. Apparently he _could_ fuck it up this bad on the very first date. Tony massaged his temples. “Fuck. I am so sorry, Bucky...”

Bucky leaned until his forehead was resting on Tony’s shoulder, like he was using Tony as a shield. “‘M sorry, too, kitten. That we got caught. Wouldn’t trade th’ rest of it for anything. What’s th’ worst that’ll happen?”

Turned out the worst that was going to happen was security showed up, with an actual police officer and they were both _arrested_.

Tony had been arrested before, mostly on drunk-and-disorderlies, during his party phase. Being a celebrity, even then, had meant he’d mostly gotten off with a warning, but they’d walked him through the process a few times. Knowing exactly what was going to happen didn’t make any of it any more pleasant, though. Tony took advantage of the offered phone call to call Pepper. She chewed him out roundly and then hung up on him, but he was pretty sure she’d mobilize the law team.

He’d lost sight of Bucky for a while, as they were being processed, charged, photographed, and then tossed -- well, escorted roughly -- into a holding cell, but there Bucky was, sitting on the bench bolted to the wall, his head in his hands.

Tony sat next to him. He hesitated for a couple of seconds -- he was waiting for Bucky to realize that this was Tony’s fault and get mad at him -- but then dropped his hand on Bucky’s knee. “It’ll be okay,” he said as calmly as he could manage. “Really.”

Bucky raised his head. “Oh, yeah, I know,” he said. He shoved his hair out of his face, it was falling out of the soft, spiky curls. “Steve gets arrested all th’ time. At least I ain’t in here for a violence charge. Assault, that’s always nasty. This is misdemeanor crime, an’ if I can get a halfway decent lawyer, he can argue that, technically, it wasn’t _public_ nudity.”

“I’m sure my law team will be more than happy to take the case for you,” Tony said. “You’re taking this... very well.”

“Steve’s gonna give me like eight yards of shit about it,” Bucky confessed, looking up. “But honestly, kitten, I got a serious kink for sex in public places. Do you… really think I haven’t thought about this happenin’? You weren’t twistin’ my arm, an’ I was just as down for it as you.”

Tony’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Of course _he’d_ researched the various things he could be charged with, for getting caught indulging in his kink. And he’d known, intimately, that Bucky got off on the public sex just as much as he did. But he’d never really... _thought_ about it.

“You’re. You’re really not mad at me,” he said, wonderingly. “You...” He slumped against Bucky’s side, relieved. “You’re not going to dump it all on me.”

“Jesus, Tony,” Bucky said, putting his arm around Tony’s shoulder. “I ain’t blamin’ you. Christ, th’ damn janitor coulda had the decency to at least wait t’ see if you were going to offer him a bribe to go have a coffee break. We were just messin’ around, we didn’t hurt anyone. It’s fine. Hell, if there weren’t a damn camera up there pointin’ right at us, I might suggest you finish me off. As it is, you _definitely_ owe me one.”

Tony grinned and settled a little more snugly against Bucky’s side. “Oh no, such hardship,” he snarked. “Hell, I think I owe you a couple, at this point. I’ll book us a suite somewhere fancy and we’ll stay in and make a mess.”

“Yeah, assuming I survive Hurricane Steve, I will absolutely go for that. Keep it indoors for a bit,” Bucky said. “Take my time with you, sounds good.”


	6. Tell it to the Judge

Bucky slumped back in the chair, holding one of the scandal papers that Tony’s lawyers had brought in -- for research purposes -- which seemed excessive.

**Tony Stark Opens Own Exhibition**

“This is not even _my_ ass,” Bucky complained. The picture was badly cobbled together, poorly photoshopped and then blurry on top of that. “No one actually took a picture of us together.”

Well, that had been true, before the story broke. There were a few dozen pictures of them together now, but they were doing _normal people things_ , as Tony would phrase it.

“No, your ass is _much_ nicer. I am offended on behalf of your ass.” Tony turned to the lawyer heading up their case. “If it was actually a picture of Bucky’s ass, the judge would understand my need to tap it, anytime, anywhere. It’s a rock-solid defense.”

The lawyer, a gorgeous woman who was the tallest person Bucky had ever met in real life, rolled her eyes. “We cannot use the _too sexy for my pants_ defense, Tony.”

“You’re taking all the fun out of this, Walters,” Tony grumbled.

“You’re _not_ saying that in front of an entire room full of people that I don’t even know, and I might add, probably _my sister_ ,” Bucky said. “She thinks this is the best thing that happened to me in her entire life and she’s enjoying it entirely too much.”

Public court hearing, really. Bucky’d done it with Steve a few times, usually for fighting. No jury, no long arguments, just a lecture from the judge, enter a plea, argue for ten minutes about whether or not you deserved a fine, pay it and leave.

For normal people it wouldn’t even have been a blip on the radar, but Tony Stark was not normal people, and the court hearing was going to be a nightmare.

The judge was probably not going to like the damn media circus that Tony Stark attracted.

“Are you sure we can’t just plead guilty by letter and pay a fine?” Bucky whined.

“Not unless you want to do jail time for Contempt of Court,” Ms. Walters said briskly. “Mailing in your fine is for minor traffic violations.” She gave Bucky a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring. “I’ll do my best to get you both in and out as quickly as possible.” She raised an eyebrow at Tony. “Which means you will plead guilty and then shut up and let me do the talking.”

Tony sighed dramatically and slumped in his chair. “Fine,” he whined, drawing it out like a four-year-old being denied dessert.

“Really?” She grinned at Bucky. “You’re having a good effect on him. I approve.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Am I? This is… better?” He folded down the paper -- full of complete inaccuracies, but whatever -- to eye Tony over the pages. “This is decidedly _your_ ass, although, I’m not the person in the car.” He flipped the magazine over for Tony to look. “Recycling your old exploits?”

Tony squinted at it. “Ninety-seven? Oh, no, this was 2003, remember, Jenn, the thing with the chocolate fountain and the rabbits?”

Ms. Walters shuddered. “I try not to,” she said. “For Mr. Barnes’ sake, Tony, try to behave this time.”

“Okay, okay, I already said I would,” Tony said. He sighed. “It’s going to be a circus no matter what we do. I haven’t been caught with my pants down in over a decade.”

Bucky squeaked. “ _Your_ pants weren’t the ones--” He cut himself off immediately, the way Ms. Walters looked over at him. “Also, my zipper got stuck.”

“Well,” Ms. Walters said, closing her briefcase and standing up, “I recommend not unzipping it in any more public venues. Or at least, only in public venues where you’re invited to do so. I could give you the number for a club downtown that hosts that sort of--”

“Nope,” Tony said, making shooing motions at her like she was a fly. “No, I’m not sharing him any more. Go on, we’ll see you in court.”

“The judge is going to throw a book at us,” Bucky predicted. “Maybe not _the_ book, but a book, at least.”

“Probably,” Tony said. He didn’t sound very concerned. “It’s just a fine, honey, it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, I jus’--” Bucky waved his hand around a bit, trying to figure it out. “Your lawyer is worried about what _you’ll_ say. I get… mouthy when someone in authority is pissin’ me off.”

“Do you?” Tony looked delighted rather than worried. “I can see I’m going to have to increase Jenn’s retainer fee if we keep seeing each other.” He finally seemed to clue in to Bucky’s level of anxiety and caught Bucky’s hand, pulling it in to kiss Bucky’s fingers. “Look, we can promise to try to keep each other in line, if that’ll help. Or we can offer ourselves a reward, or something.”

“Oh, can we now?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of _reward_?” He glanced around; there wasn’t a window in the consulting room door, but it wasn’t like the door had a lock on it, or anything.

Tony leaned back in his chair, pushed off with one foot to roll it toward the door, and opened it, leaning out to look up and down the hall. Then he rolled back over to the table. “I might have noticed, on our way in,” he said casually, “that the bailiff’s office was unoccupied.”

“Ho-my god,” Bucky breathed out, torn between absolutely outraged that Tony would even suggest such a thing and one hundred percent on board. “You are _incorrigible_.”

“Is that a no?” Tony raised his eyebrows at Bucky.

“Did I say no, I didn’t hear the word no, I was just making an observation on your lack of moral fiber,” Bucky said, even as he spent a few frantic seconds arguing with himself about whether or not he should encourage this sort of behavior. Or allow Tony to encourage him into this sort of behavior. It was getting a little difficult to tell, sometimes.

Tony grinned and stood up, offering Bucky a hand. “The door locks,” he said. “And if the bailiff’s not in there, that means he’s in court, probably for _hours_.”

Bucky pretended to consider it, knowing damn well he was going to agree. “Well, if we’re _gonna_ , best before we get the first fine than after. After, and they’ll probably nail us with all sorts of contempt of court shit.”

“Excellent point. You’re very smart; I knew there was a reason I liked you so much.” Tony peered out of the conference room door again, then walked out, tugging Bucky along behind him.

Ms. Walters was going to kill them.

If they got caught. Again.

Best not to get _caught_.

He ignored the voice in his head that said it was probably best not to do it at all, because Tony was grinning like a maniac and they were both already breathing harder. _A guy could fall in love._

No one spotted them as they walked down the hall, or as Tony turned into a rather cramped office, overflowing with files and paperwork. He carefully shut the door behind them, then locked it, before turning to beam at Bucky.

“You are… so, so bad,” Bucky told him, reaching out to cup Tony’s face, to run his thumb over that beautiful mouth.

“You like me that way,” Tony returned, smirking as he sucked Bucky’s thumb into his mouth, flicking his tongue against the sensitive pad. “That said, we should probably do this _fast_.” His hands were already on Bucky’s pants, opening them up. “Any objections to me blowing you?”

“Have I ever, yet, objected to your mouth on literally, any part of me?” Bucky wondered. “You know, though, this is such bad training. The one day I get you in an actual bed, I’m gonna blow my wad so fast, it’s gonna embarrass us both.” But he wasn’t hesitating in unbuckling his belt, either.

“Well, if that happens, we’ll just have to try again,” Tony said reasonably. “And again. And again...” He sank to his knees as he pulled down Bucky’s pants and freed his cock. “Shhh, be quiet now.” He winked, nuzzled briefly at Bucky’s stomach, and then swallowed Bucky’s cock down without any warning at all.

He was getting better at being quiet; his hand came up immediately to cup over his mouth as Tony slid down him. Hot, wet, slick and sensual; Tony’s lips were tight around him, and his cheek bulged for a moment until he got himself lined up again.

Bucky’s other hand went down to touch Tony’s face. God, he was so fucking gorgeous, it was like some sort of dream, the best kind, the kind you didn’t want to wake up from, and Bucky’s stomach clenched and flexed as he, once again, realized he didn’t have to wake up from this.

This _was_ his reality.

_Jesus_ , he almost lost it right there, and while for safety’s sake, the stamina of a chimpanzee would be good, he didn’t want to go over quite that fast.

He thought about his boss, and the conversation they’d had last week with Bucky’s picture on the damn cover of National Inquirer, and that did it; he eased back from the edge. Just a bit.

Tony wasn’t easing up at all, though, looking up at Bucky through those sinfully long lashes as he sucked and licked and bobbed his head, pushing the head of Bucky’s cock back into the soft back of his throat. He let out a low, hungry moan that vibrated right into Bucky’s balls.

“So, _so_ bad,” Bucky whispered, behind his hand. “And yet, so very good.” Bucky bit down on the meaty part of his palm, stifling the sudden moan, and then Tony got his hand involved, gently lifting Bucky’s balls, and-- “ _Christ_!”

Everything went from crazy pressure to a flood of relief, and he sagged against the desk full of papers and files, groping for anything to keep him from falling to the floor as his knees threatened to give out.

Tony swallowed, and swallowed again, still licking gently until Bucky pulled away, shivering from overstimulation. Then he stood up, incredibly smug, wiping a last couple of drops of come from the corner of his mouth and then licking them off his thumb. “When I’m good, I’m very, very good,” he recited, “and when I’m bad, I’m better.”

Bucky yanked Tony to him, kissing the taste of himself out of Tony’s mouth, wanting to melt into him, wanting… just straight up wanting, even though he’d just come, even though this was stupid and crazy and-- He licked Tony’s mouth and then finally let him go. “You are the _best_.” And zipped up, because Jesus, he didn’t want to get caught with his trousers around his thighs. Again.

Tony waited until Bucky had re-buckled his belt, then leaned in for another kiss. “You can do me in the car on the way home, after,” he said, winking.

“Square deal,” Bucky said. He patted down his slacks and tried to look somewhat less satiated. It probably wasn’t helping, but at least he’d be calm during the court hearing.

Even if he did about fall off the chair when the bailiff said “All rise,” and Tony leaned over to whisper “Didn’t you do that already?”


End file.
